


First Sons

by Straumoy



Series: Power Girl - Public Servant [2]
Category: DC Elseworlds, Grand Theft Auto V, inFAMOUS (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Character Development, Character Study, Crime Fighting, Drama, F/M, POV Multiple, POV Third Person Limited, Slow Build, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:21:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 128,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24291985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Straumoy/pseuds/Straumoy
Summary: Karen's life has found some sense of balance; her business is doing fine and she's made strides in winning over the hearts and minds of the public as Power Girl through dedication and merit. She's even started to remember fragments of her past, slowly rebuilding her memories bit by bit. While dealing with a bomber, Power Girl gets severely injured and she's forced to hang up her cape to focus on recovery. Stripped of her powers, Kara goes forward to face not only an uncertain future but also uncomfortable truths about her past.
Series: Power Girl - Public Servant [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1588474
Comments: 25
Kudos: 7





	1. Trial by Fire

_“O Flora, of the moon, of the dream. O little ones, O fleeting will of the ancients... Let our daughter be safe, let her find comfort. And let this dream, her captor... foretell a pleasant awakening... be, one day, a fond, distant memory...”_ the words withdrew like a mist from Kara’s mind as sleep left her. Her vibrant blue eyes strained in the dark as if tracking some unseen thought that was about to slip away.

“Kandor!” the word smacked against the stillness of the night like a hammer, Kara’s frame bolted out of bed with the grace of a startled cat. On naked feet she darted into her office, squinting under the desk lamp and hastily reaching for pen and paper. A crude skyline of an alien city took form, only to be abandoned in favor of strange alien symbols with an English translation following close behind. Between the words Kara’s writing came to a frustrating halt, tapping her temple with the pen as if trying to coax some fleeting thought to come out of the shadows of her mind. Papers rattled whenever she turned the page, her hand swinging around with impatient excitement.

“Morning ma’am, you’re early today,” Captain Sonia said with a slight tilt to her head.

“Huh? Wait, what?” Kara looked up from her desk, blinking with confusion. “What time is it?”

“Six am ma’am, have you been here long?”

“A bit,” her stomach groaned for attention, “Okay, quite a while, but I had this dream captain.”

Curious Captain Sonia stepped into the cluttered office; her spotless white uniform caught a halo whenever the sunlight graced it. There was a rigid formality to her movements, hands firmly locked in place behind her back even as she walked, “What about ma’am?”

“Look at this,” Kara tapped her drawing with all the excitement of a child.

“A city? Your birthplace perhaps?”

“Kandor, the crown jewel of Krypton,” there was a nostalgic pride to Kara’s words. “Together with my parents, we explored every nook and cranny of the place. The food, the people, arts, and culture. I can’t recall all of it, just bits and pieces.”

“And your parents?”

Kara’s head sank just a tad, the excited gleam in her eyes faded, “I saw... shadows, silhouettes. I heard my mother speak to me though, wishing me all the best, I think. Most of her words were just gibberish, but...”

“You could tell nonetheless,” Captain Sonia allowed herself a faint smile, “I’m happy for you ma’am. Any progress is good progress.”

Kara collected her notes, a forced smile slightly curved her lips, “Yeah, look... I’ll hit the shower and go over these notes right after breakfast. I think I have enough to start working on a translation program.”

“I’m afraid that will have to wait, ma’am,” Kara gave Captain Sonia a tilted look, not quite sure which dots she was meant to connect.

“Your functional skills training? At David Fire Dept.? The test isn’t until next week, but I was under the impression you wanted to review it-”

“Stars above, I totally forgot that was today,” Kara pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “Looks like Kandor will just have to wait. Business before pleasure and all that jazz.”

* * *

Having jurisdiction over the entire state of Los Santos had its fair share of pros and cons. On one hand, it got Power Girl out of the big city, she never quite got used to the cluster of smells and the hustle and bustle was a constant distraction whenever she was on the radio. Then again, covering the rest of the state wilderness meant a lot of flying and plenty of downtime while in transit. While Power Girl did step on the gas whenever needed, air traffic control wasn’t happy about her zipping around at supersonic speeds all the time. Power Girl floated from one breeze to the next at a comfortable fourteen hundred feet above the ground, brushing strains of blonde hair away so she could see the first stars twinkle into view.

A small caravan of emergency lights trekking along the highway caught her attention. Power Girl barrel-rolled in mid-air, tracing down the highway with her telescopic vision as she tried to make out where they were headed. Close to the coast, she saw a trail of smoke and as she approached her hearing picked up sirens blaring off at a dull, steady rhythm. Aligning herself with the second fire truck in the caravan, her white form-fitting suit shifted between red and white in the flashing lights from the sirens. From the corner of her eye Power Girl could see one of the firefighters rocking in his seat with excitement. A small moral boost before heading into the fray was the least she could do for her co-workers.

As the caravan spread out over the parking lot, Power Girl straightened herself up to get an overview of the situation. The last staff members were being evacuated in an orderly fashion by the facility security and aside from the blaring sirens, things were calm. No serious injuries as far as she could tell, save a few that were huddled over to an ambulance for oxygen. There was this one woman sitting on the grass, pressing down on a wound on her forehead that stared at Power Girl as if in a trance. A light shudder rippled through her shoulders as she tried to push the leering eyes in the back of her mind and focus on the task at hand.

“Divine, simply divine...” the woman muttered under her breath.

Power Girl landed and started walking next to the commanding firefighter, “Chief, what are we looking at?”

“Too early to say, alarms on the far side went off. The guards said something about one big explosion deep inside the compound followed by a series of smaller explosions. I’ll have my boys suit up and take a look.”

She nodded, “Let you men know that if they need some heavy lifting I'll be there, alright?”

“Solid copy. Jim! Move around and closer to the back.”

Power Girl strained her senses, driving her focus into the main building. Beyond the trickling rain of the sprinklers and fire alarm, nothing caught her attention. If there were any cries for help, she couldn’t hear them from the outside. Navigating the busy crowd of staff and emergency personnel like a big cat trailing through tall grass, Power Girl approached the back end of the compound where a large garage door looked like it had been blown out by some great force. Peeking inside, the blinking emergency lights revealed crude scratch marks along the walls and floor. If Power Girl was to be completely honest, it looked like a scene from a monster flick. All it needed was a couple of torn bodies of the cheap special effects kind to complete the picture.

“Ma’am, please stand back,” a hand pulled at her elbow, snapping her out of her focus.

She looked at the security guard that held her back, jerking her thumb at the garage she said, “What happened here?”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that ma’am,” there was something about his matter-of-fact tone that immediately started to grind Power Girl’s gears, “now please step back.”

She nudged her elbow free, “Look, I'm just here to help.”

“I understand that ma’am, but I need you to stand back.”

Power Girl puffed her bangs with a thinly hidden frustration as she rested her hands on her hips, “Look, the crisis is that way and you’re keeping me out here because...?”

“It’s hardly a crisis ma’am, we’ve got it under control. Also, you do not have security clearance.”

“Security- what? Stars and stone, you’re afraid I'll steal the latest perfume formula or something?”

Another man stepped up, all suit and earpiece, rigid and square as a tax form. His dark grey suit did a poor job of hiding what was undoubtfully an impressive physique. At least he wasn’t wearing sunglasses in the middle of the night, but that was about the only thing that kept him from going full Agent Smith from the Matrix, “Is there a problem?”

“Yeah, Mr. According-to-protocol here says I can’t go inside because I lack security clearance.”

The agent gave a sharp although faint nod of acknowledgment, “That would be correct ma’am, matters of national security. We'd appreciate your cooperation in this.”

“Oh, it’s national security now?” she did a very poor job at masking her sarcasm. “What are you cooking up in there? Pet dinosaurs armed with laser cannons?”

“I’m not at the liberty to discuss ma’am,” to his credit her sarcasm didn’t affect the agent in the slightest. “If you do not cooperate, we’ll be forced to detain you.”

“I’d like to see you try...” her tight tone barely managed to slip through her teeth.

Their determination clashed for a moment until Power Girl drew in a deep breath through her nostrils. A subtle change could be seen in both the agent and the security guard, their eyes squinted and their shoulders tensed. Rather than giving them the earful they apparently expected, Power Girl turned her head with a puzzled look, as if something new caught her attention, “Do you smell that? A very... distinct smell, can’t quite place it.”

“Ma’am, I'm going to ask you one last time to leave,” the agent gestured with his arm, pointing her in the direction away from the scene.

“Yeah, yeah,” she gave a dismissive wave of her hand as she slowly rose up in the air, “be sure to tell the chief I've left.”

* * *

A large door opened with a loud bang; thick smoke billowed outwards while a shadowy figure limped forward dragging something after it. As the smoke thinned out the silhouette of a firefighter in full gear came into view. Slightly disoriented the firefighter staggered around, one hand holding firm onto a doll it dragged around. Finally, an airhorn pierced the scene, a jolt ran through the firefighter before it mumbled a question behind its breathing mask, “Time? Time? What was my time? Did I make it?”

“Seventeen minutes and five seconds,” the fire chief said while he wrote down the time on a notepad. “Great balls of fire Power Girl, you’re one of us now.”

Power Girl started to remove her helmet and mask to thunderous applause that soon slipped into a steady beat accompanied by the chant one of us. Her face washed with sweat glinted in the sunlight, a wide smile filled to the brim with pride and accomplishment exploded into a childish cheer. High fives and handshakes were handed out with reckless abandon while she somehow also tried to get out of the heavy gear. A few catcalls and whistles could be heard from the crowd when Power Girl’s iconic white suit came into view, though she didn’t mind. It was all part of a greater moment of triumph.

“I know right? I couldn’t see a darn thing in there, just fumbling around like a- a zombie doing a Darth Vader impression,” Power Girl’s words bubbled with enthusiasm and came out of her like an amok machinegun.

“Power Girl?” a woman tapped on her shoulder for her attention. “Congratulations on a job well done.”

The Asian woman was polite and quite happy on her behalf, even if a little reserved. Her medium frame dressed in a black business suit made her stand out like a sore thumb among the mostly blue-clad firefighters with their rather bulky builds. Despite her being so out of place, the FBI badge she wore around her neck acted as her ticket into an otherwise man dominated field. She offered Power Girl her scarlet cape back, the string of golden medallions clattered slightly against one another. Power Girl gave her a smile and a polite nod, “Thank you, agent Kuo.”

“Listen, I take it that you will refrain from giving interviews, again?”

Power Girl sighed and seemed to weigh one option against the other, “Will there be cameras?”

“Almost certainly.”

“Can I count on you and the fire chief to cook up a joint statement?” Power Girl clapped her hands together in silent prayer.

“Listen, I’m not sure how much of a wordsmith the fire chief is, but I'll work-” she stopped to check on her phone. “Excuse me, I need to take this.”

Power Girl returned to basking in her moment, helping herself with some water and making small talk with her new peers. Sure, she could fly, punch through concrete, get shot, and walk away with barely a bruise, so some would be quick to point out the pointlessness of the test. But she still wanted formal training, knowing how the team worked and what all the bells and whistles on their gear did would help her assist them better. The fact that Power Girl had gone through the training and test without relying on her super strength and stamina made her, for the lack of a better term, one of the boys. She'd gone through the same trials as they did, proven herself by their standards and that made a bond between them. A bond that could mean the difference between life and death.

Just as her cape came into place, running diagonally from her left shoulder to her right armpit, the celebration got cut short when Power Girl saw the seriousness on agent Kuo’s face, “Lucy? What's wrong?”

“We have a problem.”

* * *

The wind whipped around Power Girl’s ears, peeling back the sweat from her brow. She pressed on her earpiece, opening a connection to Lucy, “Any luck tracing the call?”

“Not yet, we have people on it but he’s a slippery bastard. A bomb squad is mobilizing and I’ll join them ASAP. How are you doing?”

Power Girl hit the pavement like a mortar shell, “Just landed, I'll start the evacuation and look for the bomb.”

Without missing a beat, Power Girl entered the building with a confident stride and pulled the first fire alarm she spotted. On her way deeper into the complex, she caught one of the staff members and told him it was not a drill or prank and that they had evacuated immediately. Her senses strained, using everything she had at her immediate disposal to catch a hint of the bomb’s location. She looked high and low, initially focusing her search on places that would cause the most structural damage.

It was faint and hard to catch over the blaring fire alarm, but Power Girl’s keen hearing caught a hint of a steady beeping sound. The door to a maintenance room cracked open under a seemingly effortless display of strength. Tucked inside a cardboard box next to the gas pipes was the bomb, complete with all the TV and movie clichés; wires, digital display, and circuit boards crowing what looked like metallic cylinders.

“Look, uh, Lucy... you guys far off? We don’t have much time here.”

“We’ll be there in five minutes, hold on.”

“Bomb’s only giving you one and a half,” Power Girl said while she examined the bomb. It looked rather harmless there in the box, so Power Girl picked it up ever so gently and glided up to the roof. Confident it wasn’t designed to spread metallic shrapnel all over the place, Power Girl shot upwards into the sky and threw the bomb up even further. A small minute later and it exploded high above the clouds.

“I took care of it, any word on where the next one is at?”

The deadly race carried on, each bomb forced both Power Girl and Lucy to trek back and forth all over the state. While they were largely the same in design, because of the short time limit on the bombs, Power Girl was never given a chance to examine it enough to start defusing it. As the time limits grew shorter and shorter, Power Girl’s frustration ticked steadily upwards. To add insult to injury, there was no rhyme or reason to where the bombs were placed, at least nothing Power Girl managed to see in the heat of the moment.

Things turned from bad to worse when a bomb detonated way too close for Power Girl’s comfort after she threw it away. The shockwave from the blast hit her hard and slammed her into the ground, cracking asphalt with her shoulder. Screeching tires and wailing sirens surrounded her as she struggled to get back on her feet. A burning pain ate its way through her arms, straining under the stress. She coughed and panted like an exhausted beast, knees trembling and ears ringing with piercing tinnitus. As Lucy rushed to her side, supporting her Power Girl blinked away her tears while she demanded, “Where to next?”

“Kara,” Lucy’s voice was distant and muffled despite that their faces were mere inches apart, “that’s enough. You've done enough.”

“Where?!” whether her voice came out so loudly because of her impaired hearing or due to her rage was hard to tell. “Where’s the next bomb?!”

Reluctantly Lucy gave her the address. Power Girl smiled and pushed herself to stand tall and strong, brief flashes of pain rippled over her face from the effort. Like so many times before on that day, Power Girl rose to the heavens and took off. As she pressed on, the pull of gravity was getting steadily heavier as the effort to cut through the air became more and more taxing. A light touch to her lip returned blood-stained fingertips. She gave a half-smile; the point of no return came and went as Power Girl made yet another landing.

Her head was spinning and both her feet and hands felt as if they’d been encased in concrete blocks. With the first step forward, Power Girl clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from rattling. There was no second step. A wall of hot air, glass shards, and twisted metal slammed into her face first. Even with her hearing being a total mess, the blast was deafening. She found herself flat on her back, just the reflective act of coughing made her hurt in unfamiliar places. Strength started ever so slowly to drip into her body, though every fiber in her being protested loud and clear to even the slightest movement.

Determination combined with an iron will pushed Power Girl on, blood and saliva drooled out of her mouth. Fat drops of sweat carved out new paths down her dust-covered brow as one arm reached out before the other. Slowly, every inch searing with infernal pain, Power Girl crawled through the smoke and dust. As the smog of confusion and shock faded from her mind, Power Girl started to notice a sense of dead weight on her own body. Trembling hands reached down to her thigh, yet terrified to a constant howling and screaming persisted in the back of her mind. Through the smoke and dust, Power Girl saw that her leg had gotten pierced through her thigh by a foot-long metal shrapnel. The screams took a shrilling turn when she realized they were her own.


	2. Pain Redefined

Consciousness dripped back to Kara drop by drop. Her vision was blurry and out of focus, something was shoved up her nose, and when she tried to move her tongue to speak it was like scraping off cracked paint from dry wood. Joints ached when she tried to move and muscles blazed up in searing protest to anything larger than breathing. For a while Kara just laid there, in the soft embrace of her bed. It should be quiet as the grave, yet there was this constant piercing ringing in her ears. Eyes grew wet with tears, blinking squeezed them out and sent them trekking down her cheeks. A trembling breath creaked through her chest, paving the way for breathless sobs. Lunges expanded with pain as if filled with embers that flared up with each breath and sob. 

Weakened and drained, all Kara could do was trash her head around in some pathetic protest for her condition. Her brain slushed around inside her skull, the room and the bed started to rock and spiral in opposite directions. Whatever content was in her stomach bubbled and swelled up to the back of her throat. A crude cough brought a splat of stomach acid to her mouth. The sound of her coughing brought someone closer. Kara squinted, trying to pierce through the fog and tears over her eyes, but could only see a looming shadow. Something touched her cheek and gently swiped away her tears, “You awake? Can you hear me? Blink twice if you can hear me.”

Kara gritted her teeth and blinked twice as firmly as she could. The sobs had stopped, yet her lower lip wouldn’t stop quivering. As a reward for following instructions a small sun was shined in her eye, then the other. Beyond the horizon of her bed, Kara could hear other voices. Muffled words and hushed sentences that slipped past her understanding. When the looming shadow returned it put a firm hand on her forehead, forcing her eye open before letting a few drops of some liquid drip inside. Kara flinched and tried to get away, but couldn’t find the strength. “Did that hurt? I’m sorry, we’re kind of at a loss here. I’m- I’m not sure if this medicine will do you any good. But we have to try…”

The room started to come into focus, edges grew sharper and values and color started to bleed into Kara’s vision. It was a familiar ceiling and walls that surrounded her bed. Kara was in her own bedroom on the yacht. She blinked a few times to adjust her vision and the looming shadow gave away it’s secret at last. Dr. Cross had a troubled expression, almost as if he had an upset stomach. He took her hand and poked the palm before lightly pinching the fingers, “Can you feel this? Blink twice for yes.”

Again, she blinked twice and tried to speak. Lips formed words, but not a peep came out. There was a severe traffic jam at the back of Kara’s throat. Vomit would leap at the opportunity to get out into the great wide world. A new pair of hands came close, offering a glass of water while carefully guiding a shock pink straw to her mouth. Cool, refreshing water washed down the foul-tasting acid and dragged with it the vomit back to Kara’s stomach. Revived from the water Kara said, “How many?”

Dr. Cross exchanged glances with whoever was on the opposite side of the bed, “I’m not sure I follow.”

“How many,” she sighed, jaw locked down and teeth bared, “how many died? Because I wasn’t-”

“You shouldn’t worry about that. Right now, what’s import-”

“How many?!” The question smashed the silence in the room like a crude boulder. Just about every fiber in Kara’s body lit up with searing pain. Nerves sparked and hissed as if an army of telegraphers bombarded her brain with input.

Dr. Cross hung his head, massaging the back of his neck he said, “Latest I heard was nineteen dead, seventy-six injured.”

Failure. It wrapped itself around Kara like a claustrophobic straightjacket. Bones were like lead; muscles like soggy concrete and her vocal cords caught fire. She screamed, wailed, and cried beyond comfort. Hadn’t it been for the pathetic state of her body, Kara would probably have trashed around like a madwoman. Yet for every heaving breath, she took was like inhaling burning gas, tears wouldn’t stop flowing and it didn’t take long for her nose to get clogged with snot. It hurt, it hurt so much. Everything in her body screamed, begged, and pleaded for the hurting to stop. Yet in her heart of hearts, Kara hurt so much more and she couldn’t stop until exhaustion pulled her into a deep sleep.

* * *

As the elevator doors dinged and glided aside, a thick pulp of chaos poured into the elevator. The air was cluttered and busy with phones ringing, people talking while rushing to and from, and doors slamming only to be yanked open again. Lucy navigated through this restless and troubled sea that her fellow FBI agents had created. It didn’t take many steps before her trek turned into a dance on a far too cluttered dancefloor with a coffee cup in one hand and a hastily assembled file in the other. A far cry from the graceful and noble numbers the latest Vinewood movie made it to be. Not a stylish tux in sight, let alone a designer dress accompanied by flawless make-up and hair of impossible beauty. Practicality was the name of the game, though even that was getting pushed further and further back as the men and women carried out their duties while the hours dragged on. Control had slipped from their grasp and they were hell-bent on reclaiming what was theirs by right and law.

With her office door closed behind her, Lucy found the muffled silence most welcoming. A heartfelt and honest sigh melted some of the stress and tension that had chiseled her shoulders and neck into crude rock formations. Not half a second after the file landed on her desk with a thick splat there was an impatient tap on her door. An agent, wrinkled shirt, rolled up sleeves and loosened tie, jerked his thumb towards one of the meeting rooms. Both his drained face and the reckless throw of his thumb left no room for debate. Lucy secured herself a mouthful of coffee, the hot liquid searing her tongue, and the top of her mouth at the same time. Hand over mouth and tears popping out at the corner of her eyes, Lucy abandoned her cup to join her peers.

The meeting room wasn’t much of an improvement over the bubbling chaos that had taken residence in the hallway. Still, a dozen or so men talking over one another, a phone that screamed for attention that no one could spare and a printer in the corner vomiting out page after page. On the wall hung a magnetic whiteboard, a cluttered mess of hastily written notes by marker pens that had died out by the third line. On top of this mess were print outs hastily put up with little rhyme or reason, held in place by color-coded magnets. Whether there was a system to these colors was anyone’s guess. Names, numbers, addresses, and time stamps. Pieces of a puzzle thrown around at random for starters, then over the long hours a pattern started to take shape. A sequence of events spun a timeline as they got confirmed and verified. 

Cheap takeaway food that was just on the edge of edible with its quasi warmth and slight sogginess did some good in restoring Lucy’s mental fatigue. The sun sunk below the horizon, pulling a star-covered blanket over the sky as Lucy and her peers kept adding pieces to the puzzle. Their list of suspects shrunk and the elusive shadow of probable cause started to make sporadic appearances. Trash bins chocked on empty coffee cups and dented cans of energy drink before sleep finally found Lucy on a hallway sofa just barely soft enough with someone’s jacket as a makeshift quilt. After an  undetermined period of time, dream and reality melded together when a hand found her shoulder, coaxing her out of sleep and into a groggy dawn. Squinting with yesterday's make-up and a bad case of sofa hair, Lucy said, “What- what? Do we have something?”

They had a name and address. Given the terrorist charges the suspect was facing, a warrant wasn’t needed. A hasty breakfast followed by a quick make-up wash-off was all Lucy had time for before strapping on an FBI tactical west. The pitch-black SUV surged forward, pressing Lucy back in her seat before she had a chance to get fully settled in. Their caravan of unmarked cruisers and SUVs cut through traffic like a pack of wolves stalking its prey.

* * *

Amarillo Vista in El Burro Heights, East Los Santos. Lucy adjusted her west as she glanced out the window. El Burro Heights was a primarily suburban area but not affluent. The houses in the area were low-end and were usually small. Lawns are uncut, walls were cracking, and cars frequently listed as stolen. Gangsters from different Hispanic gangs can be seen patrolling the neighborhood, especially at night. According to intel from the local police department, this neighborhood is fully controlled by the Marabunta Grande. Rarely, Vagos members could be seen walking on the border of El Burro Heights and Rancho. For this reason, the FBI needed to be quick and precise in their strike. They needed the element of surprise on their side in case the suspect had a plan to escape or a left-over bomb in his home. The whole plan could literarily blow up in their faces if a gangster, wannabe or not, declared their presence for the whole street. While they weren’t really flashing sirens or sporting police cruisers, criminal veterans had developed a keen eye to spot unmarked cars that served law enforcement. Hopefully they were either sleeping, out of town, or simply just looking the other way. Hopefully.

Their suspect was a man named Lester Crest. Lester suffered from a wasting disease which had gradually worn down his motor skills during his life and left him wheelchair-bound, though surveillance footage showed that he was able to walk short distances with the use of a cane. Most likely due to his limited mobility, Lester has grown considerably overweight when compared to pictures of him from his youth that they managed to dig up. Medical records revealed that he also suffered from asthma. It is implied that Lester was bullied in high school, as he posted on Tumblr that "getting revenge" on his old high school class "never seemed to get old". Lester lived in a small, fully detached bungalow style house with an external double garage. There were multiple satellite dishes and antennae on the roof. The house was surrounded by chain-link fences with additional razor wire protection in some areas above the garage. There were two cables, one red, one blue, leading from a high voltage cabinet around the back to the front room window. This had raised some concern with the officer leading the strike along with the fact that the windows are all barred. 

“Listen, he can’t get away. What's he going to do? Slip his fat ass through the bars and high tail? With cane in one hand and asthma inhaler in the other?”

The commanded grunted as if that was all he could bother in acknowledging Lucy’s observation, “Never seen the movie Speed, have you?”

Her head took a slight tilt, “Can’t say I have, no.”

“Extortionist bomber puts a bomb on a bus and wants money, SWAT goes to his home which is rigged with explosives, everyone dies in your run of the mill Vinewood fireball explosion,” he stopped and listened for a moment to some radio chatter. “In short we could be waltzing right into a trap.”

“Huh, that’s... something,” Lucy shifted in her seat to get a better look at the house. “Might explain the five CCTV cameras attached to the house. Allows him to set off any potential explosives remotely.”

“Mm, so we’ll cut the power first and then strike. You might want to sit this one out agent Kuo.”

She scoffed and smiled, “Are you kidding me? I'll never hear the end of it from Power Girl if she learns that I sat in the backseat of a car while you guys make the arrest.”

The commander shrugged, “Suit yourself. That alien of yours could have been real handy right about now. Any idea why it’s not with us on this one?”

“I’m sorry, I'm not at the liberty to discuss the details.”

“That so? Just thought it wanted a piece of the action, catching the prick that set off those bombs. Alright, get ready people. The power is about to get cut.”

From the outside there was hardly any change to the house as power got cut. A quiet moment came and went without incident. And just as the next calm minute was about to make its entrance, the FBI made their move. Fast yet quiet the cars slipped into place, sirens flashing and tires squealing out as they came to a sudden stop. The suspension on the SUV was not given a chance to collect its wits before the doors swung open and a pack of tactical gear clad officers swarmed out like a pack of black ghosts. Alert and methodical they approached the house from the front, side, and back. Lucy, service gun in hand, follow along with their lead. Her eyes darted from the house to the squad members for any signs of the unusual. The grip on her gun scraped against her palm as her grip tightened. A frustrated, hushed sound slipped through her teeth while she squinted in the sunlight. Of course, the clouds just had to make way for the sun just moments before they breached the door.

“FBI! Open up!” the words boomed up and down the street, yet the house remained still and defiant. 

A handful of seconds later followed before a quick volley of shotgun blasts roared through the air. Just as the last shot rang out far and wide, the front side squad slipped inside as if the house was a vacuum filled container. Lucy followed through the cloud of gun powder smoke and followed a steady trail of stomping boots and barking commands. Considering the size of the house it didn’t take many moments before all its rooms were swept and declared clear. The interior of the house was cramped, messy, and dark. Not just because they cut the power, but also because all the windows were covered up by old newspaper pages. Overfilled boxes left a disorganized mess that somehow managed to hide the trail of cables that cluttered the floor. A myriad of computers, recording devices, and monitors took up most of the space in what might at some point in the distant past be the living room.

Lester himself just sat in the middle of the room, bathed in the light of half a dozen different flashlights, and surrounded by FBI agents. A drop of sweat trickled down the back of Lucy’s neck, the gun heavy and cold in her hand. Lester’s eerie calm and even polite manners brought her breathing to an uneasy tremble. With his receding hairline and thick glasses, Lester wasn’t quite up to par with what most people imagined when they heard the word terrorist. His wardrobe was rather plain, consisting of green checkered shirts and jeans for the most part. Lucy caught his eye just as they rolled him outside and although it was just a quick glimpse, it sent a shiver down her spine.

* * *

The rhythmic clacking of an elbow crutch making its way down the hall caught the ears and attention of various employees. Idle chatter paused before resuming in a lower tone. Eyes averted their gaze while the uninitiated gawked until given a soft nudge or a whispered scolding. Kala Kapur limped towards her judgment, crutch in hand and chin raised. Her raven black hair shined whenever it caught a ray of light as she passed the windows. As she rounded the corner and left the subdued bustle of the office landscape behind, Kala came to face the last stretch. A long straight corridor with nothing but double doors and a security guard at the end. She swallowed and resumed her walk. Seeing her approach, the guard opened the door and held it open for her. No pleasantries were exchanged, no faint smiles or subtle nods. Then again, who would be cheerful on the day of their judgment?

Inside was a barren room, square and sterile. Carpet, walls, and ceiling were all deathly pale in the sunlight. A desk for three was set against a glass wall, three figures seated by the desk carved out shadowy silhouettes against the flooding sunlight. In front of the desk, about ten feet away stood a single, simple folding chair. No armrests. The drop of a pin would be enough to shatter the fragile silence that had been spun like a delicate web from one end of the room to the other. Kala’s crutch stomped through, the chair rattling as she struggled to get seated. It was hard given her condition. Harder still given the chair they’d so kindly offered. She bit her lip, swallowed her groans and whimpers. Dignity might be just a single strand of hair she held on to, but by God she’d never let go.

Papers rustled, “Dr. Kapur, I’m glad you’ve deci ded to join us today for this… review meeting.”

She squinted in the sun, “Yes sir.”

“We’ve read your report,” another silhouette said. It glanced down on its golden watch of grotesque proportions, “This will only take a minute.”

“Yes sir.”

“Now, you and your… associate Dr. Mercer were working on  ALH84001 , correct?”

“Yes sir.”

Some more papers were flipped, fat fingers got licked to better go through the file, “You found something and decided to test it.”

“Yes sir. To be honest, Dr. Mercer was the one that found it and I suggested the tests.”

The file closed shut, “Which cost Dr. Mercer his life-”

“Sir, we don’t-”

“-and the life of his team. And the life of several- sorry, all of your team members as well.”

Kala blinked, “Sir I was under the impression that Dr. Grant and Dr. Sattler survived the- the incident.”

The third silhouette chimed in, “They’re dead doctor. Succumbed to their injuries this morning.”

“Ma’am…? Why- why wasn’t I told?” Kala shifted in her chair, the cheap plastic creaked underneath her. 

The first silhouette cleared his throat, “We’re keeping everything on a strict need to know basis doctor. What did you find, exactly?”

“Need to know…?” she put a hand on her chest, “Am I not to know when my friends and coworkers die? On what grounds?”

The gold watch silhouette leaned back in its chair; the exclusive leather moaned underneath his voice, “We don’t want to upset the investors any more than we have to. Now, what did you find?”

Kala’s eyes grew wet with tears despite her efforts. Her grip on her dignity was slipping, “M- microscopic fossils of bacteria .”

“Who decided to cultivate the bacteria?”

“Dr. Mercer. It- it was a snowflakes chance in hell, but honestly what did we have to lose?” a single tear dropped from Kala’s cheek.

The third silhouette folded her hands in front of her. She did this tapping with her wrists as she spoke, almost as if she were hammering down the words like nails, “Why did you test the bacteria on Dr. Mercer?”

“I- we… uh,” Kala wiped her nose with the back of her hand. Just a quick swipe. Her hand froze, fingers tensed up, and relaxed. “The colony was growing rapidly and proved resilient to very harsh conditions. They reminded- uh, reminded us of  Tardigrade s to be perfectly honest. I proposed the  hypothesis that if- if we spliced the bacteria with another organism, they’d inherit- even if it was just a fraction, they’d be something far greater.”

“Greater how?”

“Where to start honestly?” Kala licked her lips, “Freezing temperatures? No problem. Boiling hot? Got that covered. Toxins? Wait until they’re gone. Pressure? Whatever. Radiation? Pfft. Outer space? They wouldn’t even need a spacesuit! Dr. Mercer volunteer to the test. I’d do it myself, but…”

The first silhouette jabbed his finger on the report in front of him, “So, Dr. Mercer was injected. By you personally. And without safety measures?”

“We did! For some reason the bacteria colony withdrew from fire, almost as if it knew or- or had some sort of trauma. Perhaps from the atmospher-”

“Trauma,” the gold watch silhouette scoffed. “Can we wrap this up? I’ve got a golf appointment and I don’t want to get stuck in traffic. Again.”

“Fair enough,” said the first silhouette with the third one nodding in agreement. “Dr. Kapur, you’re fired effective immediately.”

“But… but it worked. I was right. Dr. Mercer became something far greater. Honestly, he exceeded even my expectations,” Kala inched to the edge of her seat. “If- if I’m allowed to stay, continue my research I can- the possibilities are… well, endless.”

“I’m afraid not.”

Arguments for scientific progress had a habit of falling on deaf ears when talking to people who thought with their wallets instead of their brains. As terrible as the habit was, it could be twisted in one's favor if one knew the right words, “But sir… you can make… so, so much money off this.”

A silent beat. The silhouettes appeared to exchange glances. Finally, one of them simply said, “No.”

* * *

“Based on what we’ve  learned , Mr. Crest is a brilliant man who had a great deal of interest in conspiracy theories. With the arrival of Power Girl this interest turned into a full-blown obsession,” Lucy clicked the remote in her hand, prompting the projector to show the next slide. Photographs taken from Lester’s home showed stacks of conspiracy theory books and DVDs covering similar topics. “Illuminati, New World Order, aliens interbreeding with humans to take over the world, corporate America selling out the  _ real  _ America for either a quick buck or a shot at immortality. A lot of old theories given a new coat of paint with Power Girl as the vanguard of our doom.”

Assistant director Johnson and a few other FBI directors listened with interest and attention to her debriefing. Though as the saying goes, no rule without exception. And this was no different. In the back of the room, tucked away in a dark corner sat an African American woman of short build. Just why she was there at all Lucy could not tell. She had not been introduced or introduced herself. Everyone just acted as if she wasn’t even there. As puzzling as it was, Lucy didn’t bring up the issue, let alone press it. Assistant director Johnson cleared his throat and said, “Do we know his motive?”

“Yes. We can draw some parallels to Timothy McVeigh and the Oklahoma City bombing; both Mr. McVeigh and Mr. Crest hated the government and wanted to take military action against it. While Mr. Crest never served in the military, both he and Mr. McVeigh had racism as a major factor for their actions. Mr. Crest believes that in siding with Power Girl and letting her operate as openly as she does, is the government betraying its people. His intent was to... either show the world that Power Girl could be killed or that she was unable or unwilling to lie down her life for ordinary humans.”

“And this would open the government's eyes to the truth?”

Lucy nodded a half-smile on her lips, “Something along those lines, sir. Mr. Crest appears to shift between Power Girl being a vanguard soldier for an invading army and a diplomat who’d seduced the upper branches of the federal state. His words, not mine.”

“How could he be so sure that the alien could be killed? As far as the public is concerned, the damn thing is near unkillable.”

The projector went through several slides in rapid succession before stopping at a picture with several newspaper clippings along with news articles printed out from various news sites. Lucy used the laser pointer on her remote to bring attention to some of the headlines, “There have been scattered and partially confirmed reports of Power Girl suffering damage. Mr. Crest correctly deduced that there had to be something fueling her abilities such as her enhanced durability and flight. Although he never guessed the source, he was correct in his assessment that Power Girl has a recharge rate and if she spends more than she gains, she’ll eventually run out juice sort to speak. This is in line with Dr. Cross’s own findings, which I've added to the report.”

Johnson nodded, “Force the alien to fly zig-zag all over the state while bombs go off. Is there a chance Dr. Cross is an accomplice?”

“I find that unlikely sir. When we brought him in, he was as taken aback by Power Girl’s state as any of us. Plus, he worked tirelessly to save her life.”

A cellphone buzzed and vibrated on the desk. Johnson gave it a quick once over before he said, “Well done agent Kuo. We'll coordinate with Lieutenant General Randall at Fort Zancudo to create a cover story for the alien's absence.”

The lights came back on and the blinds pulled up from the windows. Lucy squinted and shielded her eyes at the sudden light, “Cover story? Sir, I'm not sure if I understand.”

He let out a heavy sigh as if the mere thought of the subject was mentally draining, “D.C. is torn on the subject. Eggheads want to one thing, politicians another. There's a great deal of prestige in hosting the only alien known to mankind and since we’ve royally fucked up, they’ve decided to keep things quiet. I swear this political and diplomatic tango is going to make me pick up drinking. Again.”

“Okay... I can hear with the general and-”

“I’m giving you a new assignment.”

Her eyebrows trekked upwards at the news, “Pardon me asking sir, but why?”

Johnson stopped collecting his things and glanced about. They were the only two left in the briefing room, “I’ve had it up to here with that damn thing. Far more trouble than it is worth, public relations be damned. From what I understand it might not even survive the ordeal or if it does, there’s little guarantee that it will actually be any good to us afterward. I’m not spending resources on babysitting a bedridden alien which can’t even go to the bathroom unassisted.”

“Sir, with all due respect-”

“Agent Kuo, if that thing recovers and is suited for duty, then we can have a second discussion. Until then you’ll help the ATF chasing down a suspected gunrunner. The details will be on your desk shortly, if they haven’t arrived already,” there was a sharpness to his words that left little to no room for debate.

Lucy went poker-faced, “Yes sir. I understand.”

* * *

Kara sank down, deeper and deeper into the well of unconsciousness. At some point the darkness gave away to a pale fog, moist and cold to the skin. There was light and shadow, though no matter how much she twisted and turned, Kara could never quite spot the sun or whatever it was that emitted the light. Descending deeper still, Kara softly landed on the grass-covered ground. Devoid of any color, the grass was dark grey in color. Although soft to the touch of her naked feet, the grass was nonetheless cold, wet, and uninviting. The horizon stretched out with almost architectural precision. Naked and slightly chilled from the fog, Kara picked a direction at random and started walking. If nothing else it’d keep her a little warm and if the world wasn’t coming to Kara, then Kara would come to the world.

Time didn’t seem to have much meaning in this place. There was no indication of its passing. The time of day, for the lack of a better term, didn’t change. Kara had no appetite, yet she was neither hungry or full. Aside from the cold, wet fog that surrounded her and the uninviting grass beneath her feet, this world was devoid of everything. Wiping her face, Kara spotted something in the distance. A couple of shadowy silhouettes that lingered on the edges of the fog. She picked up the pace, shifting form a casual stroll to a light jog until she caught up with the shadow. Catching up to the shadows, they turned out to be  a big black horse and a cherry tree . The horse grazed without even acknowledging Kara’s presence. And the cheery tree was barren and as uninviting as the grass.

Kara climbed the tree, yet despite having a higher vantage point she couldn’t see anything in the thick fog. When Kara approached the horse and petted it, it kept on nipping at the grass. In the end she picked a new direction using the tree as a point of reference and started walking again. this time  around it didn’t take long before she arrived back at the barren cherry tree and the big black horse, just from a different angle. Puzzled she did the same thing, again and again, following made up directions for north, south, east, and west. The result was always the same; after a brief walk, she’d end up in the same spot.

While pondering this new revelation, Kara caught something in the corner of her eye. The horse raised its head and peered into the fog. Its ears flickered as if trying to catch some sound that lingered on the edge of hearing. Kara herself strained both her eyes and ears, yet the fog and silence refused to give up either of the secrets. Without warning the horse trotted off, scoffing as it went. Kara followed, but weirdly enough no matter how she adjusted her speed from casual stroll to a light jog and even a full-on sprint, the distance between her and the horse increased until it was swallowed by the fog. 

Just as the horse disappeared, Kara slammed on the breaks. Beneath the sound of her panting breath was the beating of her hearts. Warmth started to seep away from her and a chill worked its way up her spine like an oversized centipede. At first there was just the sound, something rustling in the grass. A single sound, like a pair of feet limping along. Then came a clacking like sound, as if many small hard parts jittered together. There was a rhythm to the jittering, matching the limping through the grass. Kara steadied her breathing as best she could, though there was a tremble to it that for whatever reason she couldn’t quite shake. 

A shadow came out of the fog, humanoid and around Kara’s height. Whomever it was, it wasn’t walking straight. The upper body was tilted to the side, the head to another while the arms dangled lifelessly to its side. As it came closer, the fog peeled away and more details came into view. Kara’s eyes widened at the sight of a life-sized ball-jointed doll. It had seen better days; years of neglect were smeared over just about every inch of the doll. Only a handful of what probably was once beautiful hair remained on its head, one eyeball was stuck in an impossible angle and its jaw locked in a half scream. Like Kara, the doll was naked, it’s limping caused by one of the joints in its leg refusing to properly bend.

Kara took a step aside and intended to let the doll pass. It stopped abruptly and just stood there, lifeless and still. Hugging herself and rubbing her arms, Kara looked around hoping to spot the cherry tree. Slowly she started to back away from the doll. Without warning the head of the doll jerked around. Still stuck at an odd angle, their eyes met and the doll’s mouth shot open in a full, silent scream. It launched itself at her with impossible speed. Arms bounced and jerked around, the violent and sudden movement took its toll on the doll’s already worn body and it started to crack and break apart. The moment it caught up with Kara it fawned over her with a hug that reeked of despair. It clawed and rubbed itself against Kara fanatically. Shoving the doll away gave only a brief pause before it resumed with renewed resolve. 

“Get off me!” Kara punched the doll square in the face, her hand sinking through the shattered doll head.

The punch, although devastating, did little to stop the doll. Even kicking its leg out from underneath it to the point where the knee joints broke didn’t help. The headless body first tried to crawl towards Kara, but as it realized its damaged legs were just dead weight, it tore off its own pelvis and started gaining on her. It clung to her leg and started a desperate climb up her body, digging its fingers into her flesh well past their breaking point. Just then, she woke up with a jolt and a deep breath, sucking in air. Kara’s return to the world of the living was greeted with the same old ceiling. To her left a glass of water rested on the bedside table. To her right, Dr. Cross sat in a chair, his head bobbing  around half asleep. Both hearts in her chest were galloping towards or away from something. Her pillow was damp with sweat and her short, rapid breaths had anxious tremble to them.

“Good God, you’re burning up,” Dr. Cross patted her face with a handkerchief. “How are you feeling?”

Kara gritted her teeth to stop them from clattering, “Heavy, drained. What happened to me doc? How bad is it?”

He scratched his unshaven chin, his usually smooth shirt wrinkled and worn, “Some broken ribs, no internal bleeding, thank God. Dislocated shoulder and,” he nodded at her leg, “pierced thigh.”

“I’m going to bounce back, right doc? Bullet resistant and all that good stuff come back.”

Dr. Cross sighed and plopped back into his chair. Kara studied him carefully, waiting for an answer. He adverted his bloodshot eyes, fatigue hung over his shoulders like a coat too big and heavy for comfort. Another sigh, heavier this time around, “I don’t know. I’d like to believe so since your eyes recovered nicely. But this? Not going to lie, you’re in pretty bad shape.”

Kara managed to crack a smile, “So you’re telling me if I start working on my tan, I’ll get better?”

He chuckled a little, though there was a hollow ring it. Leaning forward and folding his hands in a prayer Dr. Cross said, “It’s been almost a week since the bombing. You’ve been… shuttled outside once we were over the initial hurdle. The results aren’t encouraging.”

Her eyes widened, her voice rigid from keeping it from cracking apart, “Doc, can you please look at me and tell me I’m going to be okay?”

Their eyes met. His were like a couple of empty rooms. It was as if the answer or perhaps the lack thereof was eating him up from the inside out, “For whatever reason, your body is not storing sunlight as fuel for your powers. My brain says it’s because you burned yourself out, fried whatever system that manages that part of your physiology. But it is working on overdrive to patch itself up. My gut suggests that because of this, any and all sunlight your body absorbs is diverted to accelerate the healing rather than stored for later use.”

“So, no Power Girl?”

“For the time being? No,” he shrugged. “Perhaps later. Time will tell.”


	3. Nothing personal, just business

“What are your weaknesses?” the question got followed up by a few rapid clicks of a pen.

Kala coiled her fingers around her thumb, squeezing it. The first question in her job interview and they throw a catch 22 in her face. Scoff it off and say there’s no such thing as a weakness? Her interviewer would dismiss it as an obvious and childish lie. Especially with a crutch, a literal crutch lying on the floor next to her chair. Seconds started to bleed into a pool of a full minute. What if she listed as a weakness something her interviewer valued? That would be her ticket out. She smiled, lips with freshly applied lipstick parted. A smile held back by fractured confidence. Find a weakness she had that would be unimportant to the job she was applying for. What would that be?

“Honestly, I-” she swallowed the rest of her sentence raw. Wouldn’t it be better to admit a weakness, yet show that she was willing to work on it? Improve upon it? “To be perfectly honest, I’m not very good at presentations. They’re a challenge. However, I… have invested time on my own to make improvements. Money’s a bit tight at the moment, but there’s plenty of tips I can learn from just looking at the internet.”

No noteworthy response. Just a barely visible nod and something scribbled down on a page. It was bad enough that the paper was upside down. The fact that her interviewer had the flat, curvy swirls that doctors called handwriting didn’t make it any better. Was it good? Was she in the green? In the yellow? In the red? Somehow, it’d been better to crash and burn in a blaze of glory than not knowing. Kala’s hands rested in her lap, though her fingers coiled and wrapped around themselves like a den of snakes. Restless, anxious. Her eyes stole a quick glance at the wall-mounted clock. Was it moving at all? A hand slithered over the back of her hand, inching closer to the edge of her shirt. Just a peek, quick and discreet to check the time. When the next question came, her hand snapped away as if she’d been caught red-handed with the cookie jar.

“If you gave your last boss a performance review, what would he or she need to change?”

Kala had a thing or two she could say about her boss. It’d probably be a massive brick of a book if she were asked to cover it all in writing. Not much of it would be nice. Some would sing high praises of their bosses, whether it was true or false. Lie until their tongues rot. And it was easy to see why. No one would want to hire someone who only complained about their boss. Justified or not. So, step one would be to say something nice, preferably with a straight face. From there, Kala ought to work the question back to her. Fingers found her thumb again, twisting around it.

“My last boss,” she licked her lips. A deep breath, soft release, “he was quite friendly. And if I’m to be honest with you, quite authoritative. A bit too much for my taste. It made certain projects… challenging.”

The interviewer paused and sniffed. For a short, agonizing minute the process came to a grinding halt as he fished out some tissue paper. When he resumed his writing, his reaction was as impossible to read as last time. Textured brick walls were easier to read. Her hands found some sense of peace by smoothing down her skirt. Perhaps pants would have been the better choice after all? What was a skirt without matching shoes? She smiled to herself, an honest one. Dismissed not because she butchered the interview or that her qualifications were lacking. But dismissed due to the absence of high heels. Kala allowed her eyes to drift down to her feet. They were plain, more practical than shiny or stylish. Her condition demanded no less.

Pen tapped on paper, steady and tired in its beat, “What is the one question you were hoping I wouldn’t ask?”

Fingers strangled her thumb. Spasmic coils tried to snap the bones out of their joints. Honesty is a good policy. Or so she’d been raised. It’d come down to this at one point or another. Wiggling away from the painfully obvious would be akin to wiggle free from barbwire. Unpleasant and futile. Kala raised her chin, jaw tense to keep her teeth from clattering. When she swallowed, she might as well have eaten a spoonful of sand. No smile, fake, forced, or honest. She waited, let a pool of seconds fill between the two of them until her interviewer raised his head. Catching his eye with her own, Kala said, “My condition.”

His eyebrows raised with subtle hints of curiosity. Or perhaps he was taken aback by her frankness? Hard to tell, for his composure fell back to its brick wall self after half a beat. His pen was busy considering the short answer she gave. Not even looking up from the papers, his pen still doing its ballerina thing he asked, “What would you like to do with your life?”

“Cure Duchenne muscular dystrophy,” her answer plopped out neck on neck to the question. Words started tumbling out as if the question had poked a small, yet critical part that kept the dam of her silence in place. Excitement and enthusiasm added a new color to her voice, “I’m convinced that it can be at the very least halted using gene editing. The question is just which genes to use. I’ve been lucky to be able to live as long as I have, but there are so many out there who’ve been less fortunate. To be honest I was on the brink of a major breakthrough-”

A quiet hand, half-raised in a plea for silence. Kala sunk back in her seat, wrapping herself in an unseen blanket of shame. Her hands rested almost lifeless in her lap. Shriveled up like dead insects. Just a faint tap, tap on her thumb. The color from her voice shifted to her cheeks. A soft pink bled through her foundation. Her gaze sunk down to the floor. Perhaps that one crack on the tiles would explosively expand and swallow her whole in an instant? That would be nice, now wouldn’t it? Honestly, though, Kala had no such luck for another question came her way, “If you could change anything in your past, what would it be?”

Go back sixty seconds and give the previous question another  go ? If she’d were to be completely honest with herself, that’d be her answer. Though humor would most likely not score her any points by now. She looked over at the crutch by her side. An old friend, faithful and stoic. Supportive. Kala bit down a laugh at her own little pun. Removing it from her life would be an obvious answer, wouldn’t it? To be of good health. Though would she be the one she was today if she took away such a fundamental part of her being? If she could’ve run, danced, and jumped through her childhood, would she really have slaved over those books through the night until the early hours of the morning? Apply herself to a cause greater than herself? Girls wouldn’t roll their eyes at her and boys wouldn’t withdraw. The disgusted, pitied shine to their eyes would never have been.

“Honestly, I don’t know.”

Her interviewer gave a barely audible grunt. His pen hesitated; a few slow clicks followed. A short sigh followed by some rapid clicks sent the pen dancing again. Along it pirouetting over the page came yet another question, “What do you want from this job and your career?”

There was a serenity to her answer as she said, “Help people. Heal them. Make life easier for them, even if it's by a little bit.” 

He pulled back the sleeve on his shirt, revealing an expensive-looking watch. Pages got flipped and skipped. An exasperated sigh paved the way for the next question, “Why would we choose you for this role?”

“Let’s be honest here. I’m on borrowed time. If I can’t make any progress at all? I’m dead in a few years’ time. So, you want someone who’ll work as if her life depended on it? You’ve got it. Right here.”

Her interviewer didn’t look convinced. His face was smudged and half-melted as he rested his chin in his hand. Pen got tossed, voice muffled as his worlds clumsily pressed themselves through his lips and climbed over his palm, “Describe a situation where you’ve gone above and beyond.”

“At my last employer, me and my team were working together with another team. We were on the brink of something… groundbreaking. Tirelessly we worked on it, to the point where we had a friendly competition with the security guards to see who’d fall asleep first,” she smiled. A bitter tinge to her lips. “We got close too. And… here I am.”

The usual social waltz followed. Thank you for your time, a pleasure being here, we’ll get back to you, the door held open out of sudden awkwardness, not kindness, crutch clacking and finally elevator door closing. Kala let out a sigh, the tension left her shoulders along with it. Looking out the elevator window she saw the open and bright interior. Modern and sleek in its design, a soft warmth to its color palette. Her elevator ride came to a soft stop and a couple of staffers stepped onboard. Their idle chatter took the occasional laughing break. Aside from a couple of words and phrases here and there, Kala didn’t catch the details of their talk. It wasn’t until she heard Humane Labs that she started to take an interest.

“-expect? Of course, investors would abandon ship after such a mess.”

“Oh no, the board will lose their fat bonuses this year,” the woman sniggered. “Even throwing their own staff under the buss and the regular PR bullshit didn’t appease the investors.” 

“Well I’m not complaining,” the man scratched his beard. “They're taking their money out of Humane Labs and pumping into us.”

“As long as the brass doesn’t do anything stupid, we’re set, baby! Our stocks are gonna go through the roof. I just know it.”

The elevator stopped and the two staffers took their leave, “What kind of stupid would they do? Hire the rats fleeing the sinking Humane Labs ship? Those poor sons of bitches won’t even get to flip burgers. Not on this side of the pacific at least.”

Kala didn’t move an inch. She stood there, glaring at her reflection on the glass. Her grip on her crutch tightened until her knuckles turned ghostly white.

* * *

A thick drop landed square on Karen’s eye. She didn’t flinch, instead, she blinked several times to spread out the liquid over her contact lens. Even with the drops in place, the lenses were glued to her eyeball just enough to notice. It was a distracting speedbump for her eyelids whenever she blinked. Checking herself in a small mirror, Karen made some final adjustments to her façade. A touch of lip gloss and she  tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Then came the waiting. Time appeared stretched and distorted, for whenever Karen checked the alarm clock by her bed it never seemed to change. When she’d normally just strain her hearing slightly to catch wind of almost anything happening on the yacht, now it just invited the white mist of her tinnitus. Her hands found the edge of her duvet while Karen’s eyes shifted between some random point in her bedroom and the doorway. When the door finally did open Karen realized she’d been itching on her earlobe and yanked her hand away like a child caught digging through the cookie jar. 

Ophelia Day strode into the room with Kimiyo hot on her heels. Her green eyes landed a sharp glare at Karen. Stern and  tense, she stood by the end of the bed, like a crossbow ready to fire at the drop of a feather, “It’s about time you returned my calls.”

“Ophelia, darling,” Karen spread her arms wide, “you look smashing today.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere. Besides-” Ophelia’s head swiped to the side, eyes narrowed at Kimiyo. “Do you mind? This is a private conversation.”

She flinched at Ophelia’s words and sent a quiet question towards Karen with a glance. A subtle gesture to drop the matter prompted Kimiyo to leave behind a shoulder bag before closing the door behind her. Karen took in a deep breath, “So, how’s business?”

“Not great. Our current clients are calling in almost daily just to check that we still exist.” S he folded her arms , “Potential future clients are dragging their feet,” 

“Huh, I don’t see why they’d be worried. There’s plenty of competent people-”

Ophelia  put her hands on her hips, “Oh for God’s sake, don’t you get it?! It’s not about them, this is about you!”

Her eyes went round , a single finger pointing at her own face, “Me?”

“Yes! Karen Starr, the blonde babe that came out of fucking nowhere and made a big splash in the tech industry. Those who know what they’re talking about say your debut into the business was something equivalent of landing on Mars.”

A giggle escaped Karen while she  toyed with a lock of hair, “Oh, look at you. Are you trying to flatter yourself to a raise?”

Ophelia groaned and started to pace around the bedroom, the high heels on her shoes stabbing the carpet with every step. It was hard to tell what would pop first, the single button on Ophelia’s purple business jacket or an artery in her head. Or perhaps it would be the short pencil skirt that would cave first. At this point, all bets were off. A good minute of pacing around later along with several deep breaths, and Ophelia looked like she was ready for round two, “I’ve worked hard to build up a brand. Milking the name of your company as well as your debut for all that it is worth.”

“And you’ve done a fantastic job, Ophelia. We’d all be on the streets doing tricks for pocket change had it not been for you.”

She swiped a strain of flaming red hair out of her face, “So much of what we have hinges on you. If you say or do stupid shit,” she nodded at Karen’s injured leg, “things start to unravel. And I can’t do damage control if I don’t know what’s going on.”

“I see.”

“Do you? Do you really, Ms. Starr?”

Karen hugged herself, hands stroking her arms over her soft pajamas, “I was out hiking. Up by Mount Gordo. Tripped and fell, landed on some branch or something. Hurt my leg.”

“There. That wasn’t too hard, now was it?”

Her hands squeezed into fists , “You weren’t there. When you see Death- nevermind. I guess things have already been in your capable hands, but I’m officially handing StarrWARE over to you until I’m back on my feet.”

“Yes, that would be for the better.” Ophelia straightened her jacket; a sense of order and control came back to her composure. “I’ll be sure to keep you informed. At least this time around you can read e-mails.”

“See? There’s a silver lining to everything. You just need to know where to look.”

* * *

The doctor’s orders were crystal clear; rest, rest, eat, and drink well and then rest some more. Gone were the days of excellent fitness, light as a feather, stronger than a locomotive. Kara’s days were not only moving at half the speed of snails, she was about as agile as an overstuffed sack of cement powder with the grace of a beached whale. To make matters worse the weather turned into raining cats and dogs, so going outside to catch some sunlight was not an option. Dr. Cross argued that her health was so weak that even the common cold could be fatal. Binge-watching horror movies to make time pass was also pulled off the table of options. Whenever Kara looked at a screen for more than ten minutes, she got a splitting headache as if there were giant shards of glass getting pulled from her brain. 

“I’ve checked with Dr. Cross regarding your headaches ma’am,” Captain Sonia had stopped by to give her report.

“Okay, does it look good?”

“He suspects a concussion and advises you to stay away from movies and reading or any other activity that triggers the pain.”

“Would you look at that Stinky,” Kara’s cat rested in her lap and looked up at her with its one good eye, “your mommy is even worse shape than you.”

Captain Sato cleared her throat, “Ma’am? We also need to figure out what to tell your employees at StarrWARE.”

Kara looked up at the ceiling, groaning behind closed teeth, “Stars and stone! If it’s not one thing, it’s another. What- any ideas?”

“Currently we’ve only said you’ve been hurt badly and danced around the details,” Captain Sato looked out the windows of Kara’s bedroom, “but that won’t last. We could say you got caught in the bombing. It’s true an-”

“No,” Kara’s tone left no room for negotiation. “I want to keep Karen Starr and Power Girl as far apart as possible.”

Captain Sato stood perfectly still, like a navy officer at attention to her admiral, “Whatever you say, ma’am. We’ll have to think of something else then. Would there be anything else?”

“Could you get me some pen and paper, please? I think I saw a notebook in my office.”

“With all due respect ma’am, I don’t have the years nor patience to search for anything in your office,” said Captain Sato with a slight apologetic bow of her head.

Kara snuggled closer to Stinky, “They’re mean to me Stinky. You’re my only friend in this whole wide-” Her words got cut short when Stinky wiggled free and left the bedroom in a hurry. “Love you too, stupid cat.”

A little while later Rose came by with some snacks and pen and paper. She stressed how important it was for Kara to take care of her health. Seeing Rose put on a brave façade with tears just waiting for an excuse to start raining, Kara assured her that she’d listen to her own body and take breaks as needed. Alone with the stillness surrounding her, the tinnitus in her ears became more apparent. Sighing to herself, Kara went to work. Slowly but surely, she wrote page after page of alien runes. At first Kara jogged her fractured memories to map out each and every different rune. With that out of the way, she tried to organize them in order with mixed results. Partially because her memories were still fragmented and the so-called concussion didn’t make things easier. In the end, she threw in the towel and instead opted to practice writing the runes with smooth, confident lines. 

While Kara made some progress, it had taken its toll on her. Fatigue clung to her like thick tar, her head bobbed and swayed in a drowsy haze. As tired as Kara was and painfully aware that rest was important to her, she fought the urge to sleep as best she could. In the end, her efforts proved futile, the headache became too sharp in its piercing stabs and the bedsheets were just so soft and warm that sleep found her. With sleep came the dream. Knowing the dream and even acknowledging that it was indeed a dream did little to change its content or its effect. The big black horse and the dead cherry tree, same as always. Cold and uninviting grass, the chilling fog. 

Part of her was banging on the door of her consciousness, begging to be let back in. Kara found herself stuck in the warm, soothing embrace of sleep. There would be no escape, no key that would unlock her prison save one. It was a road she’d walked every night and through every reluctant nap during the long days of her recovery. The doll returned, limping and clattering as always. Others joined in, about a dozen or so in various shapes of decay. Some were missing limbs, others had cracks, dents, and scratches on them. There were a few that had gaping holes, large as fists. The only thing they had in common was their eyes; dead soulless eyes that stared so intently. What they were looking for Kara could only guess. Perhaps they saw it in her and wanted it so badly they’d disregard what little was left of them in order to attain it.

Kara fought them off and every time she’d eventually get overwhelmed. Just as she was about to drown in a sea of broken dolls she’d wake up with a jolt. Hearts racing, breath panting all while lying in a pool of her own sweat. Her thigh throbbed with an aching pain; the jolt that had run through her whole body made her throw a kick as much as her injury allowed. Suffocating silence hung over the bed like a thick smog. A hand reached out and fumbled to grab the laptop that rested on the bedside table. The soft humming of the cooling fan shaved some of the edges of Kara’s tinnitus. Her eyes stung when the bright login screen lit up like a crack of lightning. She really needed to change that, or just not log in right after waking up. Fingers danced over the keyboard and a website started to load. A podcast to keep the silence away, to drive the soft shriek of the tinnitus into some corner where it could be forgotten. At least for a time. Pained hisses cut through her clenched teeth when she slipped out of bed and limped into the bathroom

“I just don’t think her outfit is very practical, that’s all,” a man said while adjusting his microphone by the sound of it.

“ _ Practical _ how? That woman’s skin is bulletproof. Even the bombs couldn’t damage it,” a woman’s voice pointed out. “She could fight naked and still get the job done.”

Kara peered over her shoulder. Officially speaking Power Girl walked away without a scratch? Why would they lie? Who would benefit from it? She turned on the faucet, waiting for the water to get cool. As the podcast continued the first man said, “I have to agree with that. It’s not like body armor is going to impede or improve Power Girl’s performance.”

Water, cool, and crisp splashed in Kara’s face. The sweat on her back started to cool, gluing the tank top to her skin and sinking chilling needles into her spine. How did she get back home in the first place? From what she’d been told, she’d been in pretty bad shape. Hauling her unconscious ass all the way out to the yacht must have been quite the project for Dr. Cross. Speaking of which, who contacted Dr. Cross? Was he even qualified to patch up her leg? She threw a glance down at her bandaged thigh. Kara was no doctor; she didn’t even care for medical dramas on TV so she was not the best judge on the matter. Though it looked like a solid job as far as she was concerned. 

“But that doesn’t mean she can just throw decency to the wind. Just because she  _ can _ dress like a slut doesn’t mean she should,” a second woman on the podcast said.

Another man chimed in, “I also worry about the example she’s setting. Yes, you’re right, Power Girl can certainly handle herself, but what about these young girls who look up to her? I mean, if  _ they _ start dressing like that, and some guys get the wrong idea, well…”

“Oh, come on!” Kara’s words came out in perfect sync with someone else’s on the podcast.

“I’m with Bill on this. You can’t blame a person for the actions of her attacker.”

A third woman said with a clear edge to her voice, “Also, this is what we mean by  _ slut-shaming _ and  _ rape culture _ .”

“But what’s the point of exposing her breasts like that?” the second man asked before stressing his original point, “There’s no reason for her to dress like that!”

“And there’s no reason you should care,” the first woman said in a matter of factly tone. “It’s none of your business.”

Kara peered into the mirror, her reflection staring blankly back at her. Cracked lips, sweaty hair and bloodshot eyes with bags underneath for good measure. Behind her, she could barely make out pieces of the bed illuminated by the light from her laptop screen. In the shadows beyond were the rest of the yacht and its crew. Were they in on it? They’d been walking on eggshells, the few she’d seen and talked to after waking up. Closing the faucet Kara smacked her cheeks a few times to wake herself up. They were probably just considerate, prioritizing her recovery above all else. If they started to dance around with flimsy excuses when the subject got brought up… well, Kara would have to cross that bridge when she got there. 

“Oh, she has a reason. It gets her attention. It gets her exposure. Perhaps she also uses her outfit to distract her enemies in a fight as well. But it’s obvious that she’s using her body to make up for her complete lack of skill as a public servant. I mean, nineteen dead and seventy-six injured? If she really has all these powers and all these abilities, why don’t we hear more about her successes?”

Kara limped back to her bed. Had it always been this big? Half lost to the darkness, it looked so vast and uninviting. Beds are for cuddling, comfort. Everyone knows there are monsters under every bed in the world, but as soon as you’re under the covers you’re safe. Those are the rules. For some reason, the rules didn’t apply to Kara’s bed. Not now at least. Something was missing. A child might cling to a stuffed animal, but no amount of teddy bears would cut it for Kara. Even the podcast was just a hollow distraction. Real people, twice removed over technology. 

“Probably for the same reason we never learned about Fatima Al-Fihri, Bessie Coleman and Rosalind Franklin in elementary school. Women’s success stories just aren’t written in our society.”

“And that’s my point. You don’t think Power Girl dresses the way she does to get attention?”

Inching away from the sweat stain pushed Kara further into the night and its shadows. Covers were pulled up close and tightly under her chin, but there was a chill in her bones that refused to thaw away. A pillow got pulled close into a suffocating hug. Cool to the touch, its softness disappeared as Kara squeezed it hard. If any part of your body is outside of the covers, even just the tip of your toe, it’s all the monsters need to pull you out and down under. That was another iron-clad rule of the realities of beds. Underneath the covers, Kara shrunk down, making her large muscular frame as small as humanly possible. 

“Well, far be it from me to analyze the intentions of someone I’ve never met. I’ve said it many times before, but if women could really use sex and their bodies to get ahead, we’d all do it. Also, I doubt her choice of clothes has any effect on her enemies one way or the other. Now I’m not going to say I like Power Girl’s outfit. In fact, I don’t like it. And had I designed her outfit I would’ve stayed on the conservative end of things. But – as was already stated – it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t need a reason to wear what she wants to wear. And on that front – more power to her.”


	4. Kara Zor-L

Kala cupped her tea in both hands. Steam tickled her cheeks, carrying the scent of lemongrass tea with it. On the coffee table in front of her was a pile of bills. Without her insurance from Humane Labs, several of her bills made higher demands of her already withering savings. She snuggled closer, sipping her tea. By her side, her phone was charging. Save the fridge, everything else in the apartment was turned off. Kala looked down on the black mirror-like screen on her phone, “They’ll call. They'll call.”

Trading her cup of tea for her crutch, Kala hauled herself out of the sofa and limped over to the kitchen. Opening the fridge showed barren shelves save a couple of cans and bottles reused for water. Hunger made light pokes at her gut as she closed the door. Retreating back to her sofa, Kala checked her phone. Nothing. At least she still had her tea. It’s scent, warmth, and flavor shaved some of the edges off with each sip she took. However, whenever she lowered her cup, the pile of bills confronted her. With the steady march of time, they’d grow in number and their words more insistent. 

A bleep pierced the silence, sending a startled jolt through her frame. Her eyes wide and shining went straight to her phone. The screen was black and lifeless, but just up in the corner was this tiny light. Like a shiny little diamond on the night sky telling her she’d received an e-mail. Tense nerves and bubbling emotions sent her thumbs over the screen like stampeding horses. First attempt in writing the PIN failed as did the second. Third time was the charm and she devoured the e-mail’s text with starved greed.

_ Dear Dr. Kapur, _

_ This e-mail is to inform you that we have selected another candidate for our current job opening. _

_ The interview committee wants you to know that it was a pleasure to meet you. We do hope that you will consider applying to ULSA again in the future for another role for which you might qualify. _

_ Thank you for taking the time to come in to meet all of us at your job interview. We appreciate that interviewing is time and energy-consuming. That is why we wanted to let you know that you were not selected for the current position as expeditiously as possible so you can continue your job search. _

_ Again, thank you for your interest in ULSA. We hope to hear from you in the future. _

_ Regards, _

_ Helen Smith _

_ On Behalf of University of San Andreas _

Kala stared blankly at the screen for so long it went black. Her cup empty, Kala put it on the table. A flick of her wrist sent half a dozen bills flying. Not qualified? She bundled her knees up to her cheeks, arms wrapped around her legs. Not qualified? Kala rocked slightly back and forth. Not qualified!? A leg shot out, kicking the coffee table over with a crash. It stung, a deft of pain stretched across her heel. On the floor among the cluttered mess of a broken teacup and scattered bills was a newspaper. The top story was Power Girl’s handling of the bomber incident.

“Why won’t you submit to an examination?” she held the paper in her hand. “I honestly don’t get it. We could learn so much, do so much good. Far more than throwing people in jail does.”

She heaved a heavy sigh before starting to clean up her own mess. Underneath the newspaper, she found a book. Old and worn, it had been read several times. Its paperback spine was so bent that even with the book closed, it formed an arc. The title caught her eye,  _ Chariots of the Gods. _ A nostalgic smile crossed her lips. Cleaning would have to wait. The book had been a favorite of hers as a child. It captured her imagination in ways that schoolboys attending magic school never could. Her love for science got cemented through this book. Although discredited and dismissed by most, the book taught Kala to pursue answers, even if that meant entertaining rather ridiculous ideas.

With the arrival of Power Girl, the book had seen a resurgence. Flying off the shelves almost as fast as Power Girl herself. What was it that people said? Faster than a speeding bullet? Something like that. It was easy to see why. All those tall tales of gods and angels with their miracles had been around for millennia. And here’s this alien that looks very much like a human with powers and abilities that left established scientists scratching their heads. Perhaps Erich von Däniken was on to something after all when he claimed the gods of old were nothing but aliens from distant stars?

“Wouldn’t it be nice to just hop over to another star system? Far away from your troubles and start fresh?” she put the book aside and scoffed. The bills were still there, nagging. “I can’t even leave the state. And I'm all alone in my apartment, talking to myself. If that’s not a cry for help, I honestly don’t know what is.”

* * *

Karen adjusted her headset while she waited for the call to connect. The moment it connected she pulled off the headset as heavy breathing or something scraping against the microphone stabbed her ears. After a moment a flustered voice mumbled something that sounded like a greeting and apology bundled together in one package. Taking her chances, she put the headset back on, “Devin? Can you hear me?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I uh, I hear you, boss. Just lemme… There! Alright, what can I do for you?”

“I’m looking into deep learning neural networks. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about the subject?”

“Uh, a little bit. What,  _ ahem _ , excuse me. What do you have in mind?”

She looked down on her alien notes, flipping through the pages while weighing her words, “Just- just a pet project. Might become something cool and useful, or utter trash.”

“Yeah, okay. Uh, then if you just wanna poke at some code you… you could check out DistBelief.”

“Got a link for me, Devin?”

The rapid clicking of a mechanical keyboard put the conversation at a pause, “Yeah, just a sec. There are other options, but this is the one I and a couple of guys here are familiar with.” 

“Is it any good?” Karen clicked on the link that popped up in the chat window and started skimming through the web page. 

“Its use is growing rapidly across diverse Alphabet companies in both research and commercial applications. A lot of smart heads tweaking it, you’d feel right at home there Ms. Starr.”

“I’ll take a closer look, thanks Devin. I owe you one.”

“No problem boss, get well soon.”

Wasting no time, Karen got to work and examined the code as well as documentation. It showed some promise for the uses she had in mind, but as always with human tech, there was always plenty of room for improvement. Cracking up a fresh can of Dr. Pepper, Karen started to simplify and refactor the codebase. A six-pack of Dr. Pepper and a few stops to the bathroom later, Karen stretched in her chair. The heaviness of her bones and overall sluggishness wouldn’t fade. Normally she’d offset it with a good workout routine or just doing her thing as Power Girl. 

She’d made some good progress with the code but it was draining work. Her condition didn’t really make it much better by a long shot. With a simple prototype program being born in the compiler, Karen started to browse the web to kill the waiting time. Hopping from one site to the next with little rhyme or reason, she stumbled over a news article about a family funeral. The mother, father, and older sister were all victims of the bombing. Only the youngest, a four-year-old boy, had survived. Even his condition was critical but at the very least stable.

Karen slammed the laptop shut so hard it sounded like the monitor cracked. Her grip tightened as if she had to keep the laptop sealed shut, lest the monsters escaped. The tinnitus in her ear flared up, her  chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. Minutes scarped and dragged their long fingers across the blackboard of time. Tension started to thaw from her shoulders, breathing slowed down as Karen wrapped her arms around herself. 

“You okay?”

The words from the doorway caused Karen to jolt in her chair, “I’m fine, I’m fine. Thanks.” She started to dig through her notes, though in reality, she was trying to find her composure.

“Uh, I’m not very good at these things, but…”

She covered her mouth with her hand .  A timid man with a pragmatic outlook on life,  Cliff only meant well and would rather throw himself off a cliff than squash a spider. It’s just that his sense of timing was the worst. Still, there was no denying the concern that glowed in his eyes, underneath those  bushy eyebrows of his. There was something about him, something about this little shorter than average, soft man that defused Karen. It was next to impossible to get angry at him, “What is it Cliff? It’s not polite to keep a lady waiting.”

“It’s just that, well, you’ve been- I mean. Should you really be working as hard as you do?”

“Look, Cliff, I-” Karen started, but as she opened the laptop and saw the nasty crack her words fizzled out into a defeated groan. “I hate my life!”

“Maybe a break is just what the doctor ordered?”

Slumping back in her chair for a moment, Karen shot up straight like a razor with  eyes lit up, “Did I save…? Stars above, I swear if I’ve lost everything- Not responding?! No, no, no,  noooooo ! You MOTHERFU-”

Karen’s fist came down on the laptop like a hammer. It didn’t take many punches before the now dented and battered laptop forced her to retreat, her hand red and throbbing in pain. Cliff had pulled back a few steps, lingering in the hallway and looking for anything or anyone that could bail him out. With no help in sight, he said “Uhm… you okay?”

“No Cliff, I’m not okay,” she said, glaring at her laptop. A few deep breaths saved off the sharpest edges of her mood. Shaking her hand to ease the pain she said, “Look, could you get Kimiyo for me?  I need a break, a change of scenery, something or I’ll go insane. Let’s go to Tequi-la-la, all of us. My treat.”

With the yacht docked, Karen and the crew managed to get a spot on the second floor at Tequi-la-la. Just dumb luck allowed it to happen since someone had canceled their reservation just a couple of hours earlier. Though it proved to be quite the hassle to navigate up the narrow stairs to the second floor on a pair of crutches, Karen took it with a laugh. Once settled in, she chatted a bit with the manager to catch up and explain the story behind the crutches. Smiles and laughter intertwined with the otherwise serious subject matter with other regular patrons chiming in every once in a while. A change of scenery, meeting new people and of course, a healthy dosage of rock music appeared to have done wonders for Karen’s mood.

Once the live band started, talking became almost impossible unless you leaned in very closely and shouted to one another. Even then sentences had to be kept short and on point unless you wanted to go back and forth at least six times before you either got it or gave up. Between mouthfuls of cheeseburger and fries, the group's conversation kept to casual subjects like celebrity gossip and the occasional discussion of which song belonged to which band. Captain Sonia kept close to Karen who had ended up boxed into a corner. She never hesitated to ensure that Karen had what she needed, getting the bartender to come by to clear off empty glasses and ordering refills. He came out of the dimly lit walls as if made of them, the shifting stage lights revealing a new feature with each visit.

Whenever he stopped by, Karen paused and took a moment to look him over. Casual, yet sharply dressed for the occasion he wore a classy buttoned-down shirt and pants that complimented his butt very nicely. There was something about the way he walked, a light spring to his steps as if he was just waiting for an excuse to cut loose on the dance floor. It was perhaps not the best display of strength, stacking beer glasses from waist to shoulder, but it did show off those forearms. And in that department, Mr. Bartender was in the top tier. Rolled up shirt sleeves, the men’s push-up bra, at least as far as Karen was concerned. Even when their eyes met her gaze remained sharp and fixed, not lost behind a veil of tipsiness or a soaking drunk. She winked and smiled at him, signing off from the conversation of her group.

“Alright, scoot over. I need to use the bathroom,” Karen fished up her crutches and insisted to make it on her own. 

A quick visit later and she settled by the bar instead of joining her group, “How you doing young lady?” the bartender greeted her with a smile.

“Fantastic. Bladder is empty and I’m ready for round…  erh , six?” she counted on her fingers, frowning. “Am I throwing you off?”

“Nope.”

“Didn't think so. So, what looks good tonight? Any recommendations?”

He gestured at the many bottles that rested on the shelves behind him, “A pretty drink for a pretty lady. Any preferences?”

“Something sweet,” She rested her chin on her palm , t he corners of her eyes crinkled with a smile, “Something new.”

Adjusting the collar of his shirt and fanning his neck, the bartender exhaled. The grin never fading from his lips, “Something new and sweet for the lady. Comin’ right up.”

“No alcohol though, doctors’ orders.”

Glass and ice got presented on the counter while Mr. Bartender rocked and half danced behind the counter, finding one ingredient after the other. Nothing too showy, just a man in his element doing what he loved while still doing it well. Karen couldn’t help but chuckle at his sudden air guitar pose and the stirring of the drink to the beat of the music. He flashed her a smile, shiny teeth in contrast to his five-o’clock shade. With the drink done, he slid it towards her with the tip of his fingers at the base of the glass. His pouty lips sold the idea that this was indeed not only something new and sweet but also too sexy for him to handle. To top it all off, he snapped his fingers and stroke a pose, “Voilà, Cuddles on the Beach, number three. For the lady.”

Karen gave applause, poorly contained laughter rocking through her body, “What is this? Cuddles? It looks just like Sex on the Beach.”

Mr. Bartender leaned forward, resting his arm on the bar while his hand gestured over the drink as if casting a spell, “No, no, no lady. We don’t do – that – here. Not on the first date. This is  Tequi-la-la. We have style. We have class.”

“Uh-huh,” Karen pulled the straw to her lips and took a sip. It reminded her much of Sex on the Beach, but the added grenadine and ginger ale put it pretty far off-script. That said, it tasted so good. “So, you’re looking for a girl that'll treat you right, cuddles, and all?”

“You might be the type if I play my cards right,”  He leaned closer , the smell of man and aftershave tickled Karen’s nose. “I'll find out by the end of the night.”

Her hand balled together into a fist to contain a shudder. As luck would have it, her blouse kept the raised hairs on her arms a secret. Finishing another sip, she licked her lips, savoring the taste, “ You expect me to just let you hit it? Will you still respect me if you get it?

“All I can do is try,  gimme one chance,” Mr. Bartender said. He made a short nod towards her hand, “What's the problem, I don't see no ring on your hand.”

“Well, we could start by getting to know each other’s names for starters,” she offered her hand, “Karen.”

He took her hand firmly, which was always a plus, “Pel. I'll be the first to admit it, I'm curious about you, you seem so different.”

Karen nodded, her hand trekking up his arm, “I'm out of this world. If I get you on my level, do you think that you can handle it?”

Pel bit down on his lip as if he touched on something searing hot, “Okay for real, now I’m scared. Like damn!”

The two of them chatted through Karen’s drink, though their talks got chopped up by customers coming by for orders and tables needed to be cleaned. As she came closer and close to the bottom of the glass, Karen cast glances over her shoulder to her crew. They appeared to have a good time by themselves. By the time the band said their final thanks on the stage below, all that remained of Karen’s drink was a single melted ice cube wallowing in a pool of water. The shop was closing and had circumstances been different, Karen would have lingered and followed Pel home. But the crutches, her crew members, and the lack of even a slight buzz all pointed in the more sensible and logical direction. Go home alone, there’s always tomorrow.

* * *

Karen looked at the traffic outside the car window, pedestrians crossing the street and cars waiting for the light to turn green. A jogger caught her eye trotting down the street at a steady pace, wiping sweat from his brow. Her hand straightened her shirt, brushing against the thick bandage underneath. Over the quiet rhythm of the turn signal, Captain Sato said, “I’d wish you’d wear your seatbelt ma’am.”

“No, I’m good.”

“Ma’am, you’re still recovering and-”

A raised hand held back Sato’s demands, “Look, I said I’m good, okay? Just- just drop it.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The drive to StarrWARE office passed without incident. There was, however, some buzz among the employees as soon as Karen stepped out of the elevator on the second floor. Even if they’d been informed of what had happened, Karen’s staff sent a wave of questions, best wishes, and other small talk her way to the point where she couldn’t move at all. A sharp command from Ophelia, cutting through the buzz like an angry bullwhip, sent them all back to their desks like startled kittens. Karen puffed her bangs, “Thanks Ophelia, you’re a lifesaver.”

She scoffed at Karen, “Come along now, the client is waiting.”

Entering the meeting room, Karen got introduced to Molly Schultz. She's Devin Weston's lawyer, as well as the Senior Vice President and General Counsel to his business. Molly was a sharp-looking lady with piercing eyes behind a pair of glasses. For some reason, her brows were almost always half knitted together. During Karen’s absence, word had gotten out that even Devin Weston Holdings were looking into the market. As a result, Ophelia had worked hard to secure them as a client. The mobile app market was growing and everyone wanted a piece of the new pie, fresh from the oven. “So, what do you have in mind, Ms. Schultz?” Karen asked once introductions were out of the way.

“Mr. Weston wants to have app systems for all of his businesses,” there was a smug, border lining condescending tone to her voice. 

Karen  forehead creased and without a second thought a question popped out of her mouth, “Who?”

Ophelia’s elbow dug into Karen’s side, “Mr. Weston is an American billionaire, venture capitalist, and investor who owns shares in several major companies, from hotel chains like Banner Hotel & Spa to alcohol manufacturers like Patriot Beer and  Nogo Vodka.”

“We have several candidates that we’re currently considering,” Molly said. “Your work with the Digital Entertainment Network caught our eyes.”

“I’m flattered,” Karen said with a strained smile while discreetly rubbing her side. “Let’s see. With hotels and spas, we could make apps that allow people to make reservations and leave a review.”

Molly nodded, “You should be able to do as much. Even better, should you do a good job, we might consider expanding the deal. Here is the contract. I understand you wanted to review it before signing it, Ms. Starr.”

The meeting didn’t drag on much beyond that as Molly was a very busy woman. She even stressed that both Karen and Ophelia ought to be grateful that she even managed to squeeze this meeting  into her timetable. With Molly gone, Ophelia turned to the real reason why she’d insisted that Karen stop by the office despite being on sick leave, “Care to explain the shopping spree, Ms. Starr?”

Karen looked at the piece of paper Ophelia slipped in front of her. It was a long list of various computer components paired with some steep prices, “It’s for my pet project, nothing much.”

Ophelia crossed her arms with a sigh, “A hundred GPU’s? For a pet project? What is this, this project anyway? Skynet?”

“Deep learning, I want to make a translator app.”

“A what? Why?”

“Okay, look. There’s about… seven thousand languages in the world. If we have the best, most accurate translation app out there, that market is essentially ours. I’ll fiddle with it on my own, don’t worry. So, you use all the people you need to blow Molly’s socks off, okay?”

Ophelia gave it a moment thought, “Just don’t be reckless with company money, that’s all that I ask.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Karen got back on her crutches. “I’ll use my own pocket money to shave off some of the cost.”

Back on the parking lot, Karen paused before the car. The late summer sun’s heat scraping against her skin made the cooped-up air all that more suffocating. “Ma’am?” Captain Sato stood patiently by the door, holding it open for her.

“Let’s take a detour captain,” her lips curled to a smile. “ Tequi-la-la ought to be open right about now.”

Tequi-la-la wasn’t really open in the strictest sense of the word. They were getting ready for tonight's show with some upstarting band working out the kinks together with the crew. Pel was going about his business, restocking bottles and rearranging glasses behind the bar counter when recognition dawned on his face as the two women sat down by the counter. Giving them a polite smile, he looked around for someone while wiping his hands on the apron. Muttering to himself he threw a glance to the backroom but found no one. He even caught one of the sound technicians and the two of them had a quick exchange. 

“Uh, I don’t think-” he started before swallowing his words at the sight of the manager coming in. “Hey boss, is this okay? We're not open, are we?”

“ Whaddya talkin ’ ‘bout?  Of course it’s okay. Like I'd let ‘em in if it wasn’t.”

Pel raised his hands and backed off the subject. Hearing Karen sniggering made him promptly look away, leaving his beet-red ears open for the world to see. The way his hand rubbed the back of his neck made her take a deep breath. Just as he turned and looked over his shoulder like a pouting puppy, a snorting laugh escaped her sending both of them back to square one. Between chuckles, Karen reached out a hand and tucked softly at his shirt, “Pel, Pel. Look, I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to stress you out. I thought you knew.”

“Nah, I didn’t. Only been here for a month,” he gave a dismissive wave. “The boss can be a bit of a hard-ass, so I walk on eggshells. Kinda surprised that they give you a free pass like that.”

“Oh, we go back a while. Your manager and me,” Karen said as she started to flip through the  Devin Weston Holdings contract.

“Sounds like you owe me a little piece of history.”

She rested her chin on her hand, “Not much to say. A group of nasty drunks was giving the bouncers a hard time. I offered them some help and that’s that.”

“Really?” Pel scratched his five o’clock shade. “That’s all?”

“It was a bit more than that, but it was an icebreaker if nothing else. Thinking of shaving?”

A corner of his mouth slipped into a sly smile, “I’m considering it, yeah.”

“You shouldn’t,” she licked a finger to get a better grip on the page. “It looks good on you.”

Captain Sato excused herself and for a minute the two of them went about their business. Karen read through the contract, stealing a glance or two whenever Pel bent down. Pale blue jeans that had probably been through the washing machine a few times too many strained over his butt. Either a wallet or a notebook in his back pocket got squeezed to the breaking point. In an effort to hide her smile, Karen started to bite down on her lower lip.

“So... why did you come here?”

Karen  tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, “Change of scenery. Change of company.”

“Trouble at home? Might not be my place to ask, but...” he shrugged and gave a coy smile.

She was about to say something, but the words never left the tip of her tongue. A faint beat was missed before she said, “Just bored.”

“Ah, c’mon. There's got to be more than that. Talk to me, I'll listen.”

“Okay, look. If I'm to be completely honest with you. I am – also lonely. Just a bit,” she held up her fingers and measured a tiny little gap.

* * *

Kara found some peace and quiet at the bow of her yacht. Snuggled between sunbathed pillows, the late summer sun shaved off a lot of the fatigue that otherwise hung over her shoulders like a heavy cloak. The sea was calm, hardly making the sixty-four-meter-long yacht bob along with the waves. Every once in a while, a mechanical roar tickled across the ocean from Vespucci Beach. It was without fail intertwined with screams of delighted excitement from whomever was riding the rollercoaster. Even wearing sunglasses, Kara squinted up at the sky. A couple of seagulls simply wouldn’t shut up as they cruised along the wind, neither coming nor going anywhere. Muttering to herself under her breath, Kara turned her attention back to her notes. Her writing of the alien runes had improved significantly. Gone were the wobbly lines and chicken scratches. While not exactly penmanship porn, her writing had a consistent quality and speed to it that was sufficient for her needs.

“How are we feeling today?” Kimiyo came up with a fruit plate.

“Getting better,” Kara stretched in her seat. “Oh, that looks delicious.”

“Happy to hear it, Ms. Starr,” she gave an exaggerated bow as she presented the plate. “You sure you’re not pushing yourself too hard?”

Nibbling on a slice of watermelon, Kara’s  brows snapped together, “I’m fine. See?”

“Please don’t take it the wrong way, Ms. Starr. Would you rather that we didn’t care about your well-being?”

She started to say something but swallowed her words. Starting over she said, “I haven’t looked at it from that angle. Doc was right though; the sun does help. I can go on longer out here compared to inside,  buuuut … breaks are still part of the deal.”

Kimiyo stole a glance at the notebook as a passing breeze flipped through the pages, “Your penmanship certainly has improved. How goes your studies?”

“I think… I’m pretty sure I’ve got the alphabet down. All one-hundred-and-fifty-three letters. Words on the other hand-” Kara sighed, her mouth set in a hard line. “Only a couple; Krypton. Kandor. Mother. Father.”

“Still have your work cut out for you it seems,” Kimiyo said before one particular piece of writing caught her attention. There was a whole page dedicated to it, written with care and encircled multiple times. “A major breakthrough?”

“Oh that,” a smile returned to Kara. “That’s my name, Kara Zor-L.”

“Well then, I’ll leave you to it. Be sure to stay hydrated and let me know if you need anything.”

“Yeah, yeah. I will,” Kara shoed Kimiyo away with a smile. Double-clicking her mechanical pencil, she resumed her studies. In some subbasement of her mind, it made sense, or at least pieces of it all made sense. Yet making a bridge between the conscious and subconscious was frustratingly hard. Page after page Kara tried to jumpstart her fractured memories, weld them together into something coherent. Yet it ended up in a mush every time. With only a few pages left in her notebook, it became apparent to Kara that she was missing something. It was probably something blatantly obvious, laughing at her face, but she was too dumb to see it. The few words she had was thanks to memories rather than an actual understanding of how the writing system worked. Without that understanding, all she could do was hurl combinations of runes down in her notebook and see what’d stick or jog her memory. It’d work, but it was a slow and frustrating process with an absurd high failure rate. There had to be a better way to crack the logic of her language. 


	5. Land of Confusion

Grapeseed, Blaine County, San Andreas. Kala’s new residence stood across from a feed store, minimart and discount clothes emporium. The house was right in the heart of the action on Grapeseed's main drag. Whatever that meant. From here on out, Kala would be living on the cutting edge of rural America. Complete with a 2-car garage which she couldn’t use. Her car along with just about everything save the clothes on her back had been sold. Her life reduced to a house that should either have been torn down or seriously renovated some twenty years ago and a couple of suitcases. On the flip side, her bank account had gotten a much-needed injection. Cockroaches skittled aside when she opened the door. Some old furniture from a few  decades' past stood scattered about, pale and grey from the thick coat of ash-like dust. After a couple of trips back and forth to get the suitcases inside she was as settled in as she could muster. The neighbors didn’t exactly leap off their porches to give her a helping hand. At least the fridge was working once the power got connected, so that’s something. 

During her trip to the local supermarket, it quickly became apparent that this little community didn’t take too kindly to strangers or anyone that deviated from the norm. Open, unashamed gawking. Mothers pulled their children closer. Disapproval in their eyes, born of ignorance. Perhaps they thought she had the plague or something. Kala sighed; her crutch clacked on the floor as she walked with a slight limp down the aisle. From the corner of her eye, between the goods stacked on the shelves, Kala caught sight of a clerk. Whenever she stopped, the clerk stopped. Whenever she resumed walking, the clerk tagged along. Things didn’t improve much by the cashier. No how do you do? No smile. Not even eye contact. Just tally up the price as fast and efficiently as possible to get it over with. No one offered to hold the door for her even when she had her crutch in one hand and a grocery bag in the other.

Just across the street, something hit her in the back of the head. Small and light, but it was there nonetheless. Kala turned a puzzled frown on her face. A stretch down the street stood a few kids ganged up together in collective bravado. One of them picked up a pebble from the side of the road and sent it flying, hitting Kala just above her brow, “Git outta here freak!”

“Yeah! We dun wanna get sick. Git! Git away!”

The other kids joined in, though their throws were pathetic. Kala wasn’t particularly mobile to begin with and the grocery bag didn’t make it any easier to move fast and dodge pebbles at the same time. But she hobbled off as best she could, ducking her head down. Then, like a cracking bolt of thunder, a man’s voice boomed from across the street, “Timothy Anderson!”

All the kids flinched and clustered together, shoving one in front of the other. Forcing one to be a sacrificial lamb to take the first blow as the man lumbered over to them. No more pebbles were flying, though the man’s cursing and grumbling hung in the air. By the looks of it, the words stung far more than any fast-flying pebble ever would. A hand, worn and strong from years of hard honest work in the field, swatted the back of all the kid's heads. As for poor Timothy? Well now, the man latched on to his ear and pulled him as close as he could. Little Tim balanced on the tip of his toes, squirming in pain while he tried to either excuse or explain his behavior. It was hard to tell from where Kala stood for the man howled like a motorcycle engine gone bad, drowning Tim’s voice.

“E-excuse me. Excuse me!” Kala called out, securing her grip on the grocery bag as she spoke. “Sir, it’s-”

“Don’t you talk to me or my kid again woman!” the man shot an accusing finger at her, eyes ablaze.

Kala stopped dead in her tracks, blinking. He turned his back on her, folding his arms around the kids as he led them away. Every few steps he threw daggers at Kala with his eyes. Even though she was left alone by the side of the street, it was as if every house and even the hills themselves had eyes. And they were all watching, accusing. Finding her guilty in some crime or another. A shudder ran down her spine, Kala hurried back inside and locked the door behind her.

A few hours and a meager meal later, Kala sat on her mattress working on her thesis. Salvaged notes from her days at Humane Labs needed to be set in context. Without equipment, coworkers or samples it was about all she could do. And no, the simple battery-powered radio didn’t count as equipment. Its humble mono speaker did its best to keep the deafening silence at bay though. A group of motorcycles roared down the street, rattling the walls of her humble home. Kala collected her crutch and headed to the window to see what the fuzz was about. By the time she pulled the curtain aside, the street stood empty and quiet. Nighttime had already thrown its dark blanket over the town. 

“Some fresh air wouldn’t hurt,” she said.

Outside was dark, much darker than she was used to. Out here there weren’t nearly as many streetlights, let alone traffic. High above her stars glinted, peeking over the tall shadow silhouettes of the surrounding hills. An almost childlike smile crossed her lips as she took in the dark quiet of the night. It was just so different from what she was used to. Humane Labs had been out in the middle of nowhere, but she’d never actually taken the time to appreciate the nights out there. Or the day time for that matter. All that had mattered was work, everything else was secondary. Muffled voices brought Kala out of her night dreaming and back to the waking world. Her grip on her crutch tightened, anxious eyes peered over her shoulder. First to check that she still had a clear path back to her home, second to spot the source of the voices. A small thread of light caught her eye. It looked like it hung still in midair, surrounded by a looming shadow.

Hesitantly she leaned in just a tad closer. Yes, the voices grew louder if just by a bit. She looked at her new home, back on the thin light, then back at her home. Shaking her head, Kala started to limp back to her house when a wave of cheers and applause washed over the stillness of the night. The sudden sound made her flinch, a hand jerked up to shield her face from the unseen harm. Yet nothing came. Kala swallowed and checked her surroundings once more. Nothing but the quiet night as far as her eyes could see. She took a deep breath and straightened her back as best she could before  limping towards the light as quietly as her crutch would allow.

Upon closer inspection, the light was a crack in a wooden door. Her eye pressed against the crack, worn wood poked at her skin. A gathering of the local townsfolks was revealed once her eye adjusted to the light. Their backs against her, eyes transfixed on whoever had taken center stage. Snippets of sentences slipped through, but it was still so broken and muffled it was hard to make sense of it. Her hand traversed over the wooden door when her fingers found something that was colder and harder. A metal hinge, rusted and battered. Or so Kala assumed based on its crude texture. Almost sliding along the wall, she supported herself between her crutch and the wall. Her hand patted and felt its way forward, searching. After about a minute of searching, she found her treasure, a door handle. Another deep breath and after it left her body through a steady stream, she opened the door.

The inside reminded her of a barn. It was filled with a distinct smell of farmland. Plants and chemical smell intertwined in some strange duet, with just a pinch of rotten for extra flavor. Food for farm animals was stacked around along the walls. Undoubtedly there was a system to it all, but whatever  it was Kala couldn’t see it. Her free hand went to her nose, the back of her hand doing what it could to block out the smell. In the center of the barn sat a group of people, two-three dozen or thereabouts. Some sat on crates, others on barrels. A few lucky ones had secured themselves a foldable chair or perhaps they’d brought it with them. Regardless all of them had their attention fully fixed on the man that strolled back and forth on the makeshift stage. He wore a black coat with leather boots, a white shirt underneath, with a red vest. He also appeared to be in his late fifties, early sixties with silver-grey hair.

His audience was a sorry lot. Poor unfortunate souls that looked lost in a world that no longer made sense to them. They latched out and clung to anyone and anything that’d comfort and assure them. Provide context and make sense of a reality that no longer conformed to their understanding of the world. As for the man that they listened to intently to? It didn’t take many minutes for Kala to realize that this was a man who longed to purge the world of vice and sin. And he saw corruption everywhere. Except within. Tonight’s topic was the Whore of Babylon and to his credit, the man put on quite the show. Not quite as flashy as the televangelists with their stadiums and high production values. Nevertheless, there was a drive, conviction, and not to mention passion in his voice as he spoke, “And upon her forehead was a name written, MYSTERY, BABYLON THE GREAT, THE MOTHER OF HARLOTS AND ABOMINATIONS OF THE EARTH.”

Several in the crowd nodded in agreement, while most were spellbound and hung on to every word. A few were in silent prayer, hands folded and lips moving. The man took a pause, pacing back and forth like a predator circling its prey. Heavy boots on a humble wooden stage, like the unstoppable arrival of the end times. A hand latched out, casting a web of fear over the crowd, “The texts are true. They’re true I say! We’ve all seen it; the blood of the saints, the blood of Jesus. How drunk she is on it. And what does the world do? It admires her! Just as the text said. I tell you, friends, I tell you. Do not be fooled. Power Girl is the Whore of Babylon.”

“Do you honestly believe that?” Kala might as well have fired off a gun given the immediate response. The words that dropped off her tongue prompted every eye in the barn to glare at her. A lynching was just a misspoken word away.

The man on the stage kept his audience in check, a testament to his grip on their hearts and minds. He tilted his head and with folded hands said, “And what do you propose that she might be, hmm?”

Science would fall on deaf ears. Facts would be powerless against their feelings. If Kala wanted to wiggle herself out of this mess, she’d have to abandon the rationale and embrace the irrational. So, with her mind racing, her mouth acted on its own, “Nephilim. Power Girl is a Nephilim.”

A murmur ran through the crowd. Kala took a step forward, “The land that we have gone through as spies is a land that devours its inhabitants; and all the people that we saw in it are of great size. There we saw the Nephilim; and to ourselves we seemed like grasshoppers, and so we seemed to them.”

She looked over the crowd for support. The man on the stage stood in silence, digesting her words. He knew them, that much was certain. It was a gamble, but if Kala was right and this man saw the hand of God in everything and she could spew out enough bullshit to justify her presence as someone delivering God’s latest revelation to him, she’d be off the hook. There were just a couple of problems. Kala wasn’t much of a wordsmith and the intense scrutiny the crowd put her under brought the gears in her head to a grinding halt. What little she remembered from  Erich von Däniken’s book just got absurdly harder to dig up. Still, there was no other option but to press  forward, “A-are we not like grasshoppers when compared to Power Girl? What would crush us, she barely registers. Our strength pales compared to hers. We- we’re snails compared to her speed.”

“The Nephilim were in the earth in those days, and also after that when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bore children to them; the same were the mighty men that were of old, the men of renown,” the man said. His words shaved off the heat from Kala as the crowd turned to listen. Some still kept a watchful eye on her.

“Power Girl is the last of the Nephilim warriors. She’s… waited through the ages. Endured the flood. How I honestly can’t say. But she’s here, now. This must be a sign. She- she strikes down the wicked, vice and sin lie dead at her feet. I believe she’s trying to redeem herself in the eyes of God.”

The man looked intrigued, yet no fully sold.  So it was no wonder that he asked, “Why?”

“Because…” Kala let out a defeated sigh, “the end is nigh.”

* * *

“ Uuurh ... pants, pants. Where are- Pel? Have you seen my pants? Pel?” Karen’s fumbling hand stopped. Not a sound. Trying to get up, Karen quickly realized she’d traded a hangover with a splitting pain in the neck. Apparently, she’d slept at an odd angle for the better part of the night. Or perhaps a crude bundle of towels wasn’t the best to use as a pillow. Drowsy like a freshly resurrected undead, Karen limped out of the backroom over to the bar counter. Water fresh from the faucet was a blessing from the high heavens, breathing life to the dry barrens that used to be her mouth. Several splashes of cold water and crude scrubbings got most of the sleep away. Whenever she made big movements, various muscles howled out reminders of last night’s antics. Forcing her to grit her teeth and draw in sharp breaths with an angry hiss.

“Towel, towel...” drying off her face, Karen looked down at the make-up stains she’d left behind. “Whoops... they’ll come off in the wash. If they boil it.”

With pants back on, and with them a sense of dignity restored, Karen grabbed one of her crutches and started looking for Pel.  Tequi-la-la was dead quiet, peaceful even. The only sound that interrupted the morning quiet was the steady clacking of Karen’s crutch. Leaning on the handrail on her way down the stairs, Karen’s shoulder brushed against the many posters, old and new that were scattered along the wall. On the stage, drums, microphones, and speakers stood with the silent promise of a loud, good time. Circling between the brick columns, Karen searched the main room for any sign of Pel’s whereabouts. The only thing she saw was a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror behind the bar counter. Not a flattering look by any stretch of the imagination. She might even end up seeing the blunt end of a baseball bat if she met anyone but Pel.

“Pel?” Karen strained her ears, only now noticing that the tinnitus that’d been scraping against the inside of her ears had faded to a barely audible whisper. While a welcome discovery, it wasn’t quite what she’d hoped for. The staff only sign on one of the doors didn’t do much to stop Karen from pressing onwards. Even the backroom was deserted, though considering that the lights were on, she was on the right track. Making a little extra noise with her crutch as she crossed the room, Karen peeked through the shelves and between boxes. Not a soul. A thud, like a muffled car door closing caught her with a start. Opening the back door, the morning sun stabbed her eyes for a moment. Karen flinched as one of her contact lenses scraped off to the side.

“Karen? You're up?” Pel’s voice barely cut over the morning traffic.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm-”

“What’s wrong?”

Karen swatted with her hand, “Nothing. It's just- I got some stuff on my eye that’s all. Give me a second.”

“Want me to take a look?”

“No!” she turned away, her sense of balance failing. Her fall was fell short as Pel caught her shoulder. “No, I'm fine. Just- thanks.”

“Alright, alright. Let's uh, let’s head inside.”

“Hang on, I think I got it,” Karen blinked her eyes. The pain that had folded itself around the side of her eye was gone and the world came into a clearer view. Still a little smeared out by tears, but it was an improvement over the hazy shadows and bright spots she’d seen before. On the parking lot stood a single car. It was a station wagon with a signature Dundreary grille, opulent wood paneling, roomy luggage compartment, and a roof rack for good measure. The car’s heyday was a thing of the past and it probably had not seen a single carwash for the better part of a year. Through the dirty windows, Karen could see that both the luggage compartment was loaded to the brim with suitcases and plastic bags filled with clothes and sheets. The back seats had been converted to a makeshift bed. She looked at the car, then at Pel and back at the car.

“Yeah, I live in my car,” he put his hands on his hips, squaring his shoulders. “What of it?”

“Nothing. Just a little surprised, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh...” Pel didn’t sound convinced at all. “C’mon, laugh it up. Get it out of your system.”

Karen scoffed, “I’m not going to laugh at you. Look, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Yeah? How so?”

“You’ve got a job. Things might not look too hot now, but you’re working to turn this ship around. That's nothing I'd laugh at. That's something I respect.”

Pel didn’t look particularly convinced, “Yeah, well this ship built like a steakhouse but handles like a Bistro.”

A short laugh escaped Karen. She tried her hardest to shut herself up, but her shoulder simply wouldn’t stop shaking. There was an apology at the ready, but for the moment all she could do was to wear it on her face. Containing laughter and apologizing at the same time proved to be a futile task. The sight of Karen’s struggle chipped away at Pel’s shame, his smile returned and he soon joined her with his own deeper chuckle. “Oh, oh boy,” Karen wiped a tear and sniffed. “I’m sorry, really. I did not mean to laugh. But, um... yeah.”

“I get it, Karen, it’s cool.” Pel took a deep breath. Giving his car a sideways glance, he exhaled sharply, “It’s just frustrating, you know? I wanna get to something better, but with this? One false step sets you back months.”

Karen nodded while she looked at his car. After a moment she said, “Look, you could crash at my place for a while.”

“Yeah right,” Pel said with a scoff. When Karen just looked at him as if she was expecting a more serious, sincere answer he hesitated. When he spoke up next, it came out soft as if he was scared of getting his hopes up, “For real?”

Her mouth curved into a smile.

* * *

A hand reached out to catch the aft of the yacht just as the dinghy’s engine died down. The yachts massive milk-white body loomed over the little dinghy, aloof to its presence. Once onboard Karen nudged her head, urging Pel to follow her deeper inside. She chatted happily about her home, stopping every once in a while, to bring attention to a particular part and introducing crew members as they were met along the way. The crew, while civil, remained reserved and slipped back to their respective duties at the first opportunity. Coming up to the lounge area on the second deck, Karen was talking about the bar when Captain Sato came by, “And would you look at that? This competent woman is the good captain on this fine boat. Captain, meet Pel Tavin.”

“Good day Mr. Tavin.” 

Pel, still taking in the sights of the lounge snapped out of his daze and managed to fumble out a greeting of sorts, “Yeah. Hi, a pleasure.”

“Relax Pel, breathe. She doesn’t bite,” Karen teased, nudging him a little with her elbow. “Have you seen Kimiyo around? We have some laundry that needs to be cleaned. A lot actually.”

“No ma’am, but I believe she’s going over dinner plans together with Mr. Grant. I'll let her know.”

“Thank you,” Karen started towards the master bedroom, “we might also need to rearrange the closets in my bedroom.”

“For Mr. Tavin’s clothes, I presume? Will he be staying long?”

Karen stopped and looked at Captain Sato and back at Pel, “I certainly hope so. At least until he’s back on his feet. Oh, before I forget. Pel, fancy a shower?”

“Huh? Oh, oh yeah. That'd be pretty sweet.”

She beckoned him to follow with her head, “Right this way. I'll show you the bedroom. Where the magic happens.”

A couple of minutes later and Karen looked over her wardrobe while Pel took a steaming hot shower. Over the running water, she could hear moans of pleasure intertwined with soft laughter. Her number one priority was to get her suit, boots, and cape out of sight. As a quick and improvised solution, it got all stuffed in a closet in the guest room that had a simple lock on it. On top of that, the room itself got locked out. As she balanced on one foot while putting away the keys, she caught the sight of Captain Sato and Kimiyo coming her way, “Ladies. As you might have noticed, things are going to be a little bit different around here.”

Captain Sato clasped her hands behind her back, her voice firm, “Ma’am, does he know?”

“No.”

“Does he suspect?”

Karen's mouth set in a hard line, “No.”

“Will you tell him?”

“Stars above captain, what’s with the interrogation? You going to drag Pel outside and make him walk the plank?”

“You did bring a stranger onboard without letting us know in advance Ms. Starr,” Kimiyo shifted her weight from one leg to the other while stealing the occasional glance further down the corridor.

Karen rolled her eyes, “Oh cut it out. It's not like I have laser guns of doom lying around in plain sight. And, and where was this critique when I took in Rose? Hmm?”

“Ma’am, you took in Ms. Tremens to be a member of this crew. Not to mention her first meeting with you was whilst you were on duty.”

“There is no pleasing you two, is there?”

Captain Sato inhaled as if calming herself before she said with tested patience, “Ma’am, we’d simply like to know about these things in advance. Plus, I think you’re moving too fast.”

“Too fast? Oh, this is too fast for you captain?” Her brows snapped together, “With Vernon, I was too slow and now- Look, I'm getting some mixed signals here my dear captain. Pel stays, that’s final.”


	6. Just for Laughs

Over the next couple of days Karen reached out to Dr. Cross to report that her tinnitus was now gone. Taking this as a benchmark on her recovery, she was eager to get back into training again. While Dr. Cross still leaned on the side of caution, the two of them laid down a plan. For the next few weeks Karen alternated between working out, double-checking some code from StarrWARE and tweaking her translation software. With Pel around she forced herself to get into a regular day rhythm once more. Gone were times when days and nights got stirred together while mulling over code or alien grammar. When Pel came home from work it was time for dinner and after that, it was their time. No coding, no phone, no mail. Just Pel.

“When are you gonna to start  shavin ’ your legs?”

Karen stopped working on her crunches. Lying flat on her back on the floor, she looked up at him, “I’m sorry what?”

“Your legs,” he gestured at her with his coffee cup. “Gonna shave ‘em?”

She sat up, pulling her legs closer. A pair of fingers brushed over the bandage, “I’m not a fan. The way I see it, it’s easier to just put on a pair of pants.”

“Yeah, okay,” Pel scratched his head a little before taking a careful sip of his steaming hot coffee. “Just never heard of a bodybuilder that doesn’t shave.”

Karen scoffed, getting back on her feet she said, “I’m not a bodybuilder Pel. And I don’t aspire to be one either.”

“You sure?” he put the coffee aside. A short bleep escaped from his pocket; a message had arrived on his phone. While checking it he added, “You do put in the hours for it though. Hell, you work out more than most guys I know.”

“Look Pel,” Karen started. Her shoulders sagged, “Nevermind. I'm going to take a shower. We're still good for our date, right?”

“Just got confirmation on our reservation. Ever been to the last train before?”

“I’ve flown by it several times, but never got the chance. Got to admit, I’m a little excited.”

A couple of hours later and the two of them were waiting for their deserts after a tasty dinner at Last Train in Los Santos. While Pel had sworn to the burgers, Karen had helped herself to a large serving of hot dogs. Peeking out the window, they had looked at people passing by and made uneducated guesses of what kind of person they were. After a handful of beers their guesses had grown outrageous and the laughter sat loose and loud. As the waiter came to their table bringing Frozen Chocolate Dipped Banana, the two of them simmered down or at the least tried to. Pel put on his best trying to be an adult drinking a beer face while Karen couldn’t help shaking as she snorted out the occasional laugh. As soon as the waiter wished them a pleasant meal, they both exploded in laughter. A small spray of beer shot out from between Pel’s lips, prompting Karen to drum on the table edge while heaving for air. Between the laughter and wiping tears, they tried their best to apologize to their waiter. 

“Oh. Oh boy, that- that was  somethin ’,” Pel said when the laughter finally simmered down to chuckles and giggles. 

Karen wiped away a tear, “Yeah, I don’t see us surviving the comedy club at this rate.”

“Not a bad way to go.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Karen raised her beer bottle. 

After finishing desert, they walked over to the comedy club which was right next door. A couple of other customers had similar plans. Leaving her crutches at home, Karen relied on Pel for support as she walked with a distinct limp. In the distance a wailing siren could be heard. As it grew louder, Karen’s shoulders tensed up as if refraining from giving it any attention. Locking his arm with hers, Pel said, “Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Y’know, I’ve been meaning to ask…” he hesitated; a hand rubbed the back of his neck. “Is  somethin \- did something happen?”

Karen scoffed and straightened herself, “Where did that come from?”

“It’s just- I dunno, sometimes you wake up in the middle of the night as if someone held a match to your ass.”

“How poetic… you really have a way with words.”

Pel let out a groan, looking up at the late evening sky for support. When his gaze locked with hers, his eyes were serious. Far more serious than Karen had ever seen him before, “Y’know what I mean Karen. I notice these things. Something’s not right and I want you to know that…”

She adverted her eyes, turning to look across the street instead. A small group of prostitutes stood together, talking and smoking. His hand folded over hers. Its large size and warmth brought her back to his face. The serious edges of his eyes had been rounded off, softened with concern and worry. He licked his lips and said, “When you’re ready Karen, I’m here for you.”

“ Thanks, Pel, I’ll…” she drew in a deep breath and rested her head on his shoulder. Just barely, over the hustle of the city and the busy traffic, she could hear the beating of his heart. “But for tonight, let’s not worry about yesterday’s problems. Let’s just enjoy ourselves, okay?”

He gave her a wide smile, “Yeah, that’s fair. This guy any good?”

“You have a lot to look forward to Pel, trust me.”

Settling down by one of the dozen or so small round tables inside Split Sides West, it proved a good thing they’d made reservations. The place was packed, all tables full, and a cluster hanging by the bar for good measure. Along the walls hung framed photos of stand-up legends who had their humble beginnings at this club. Each and everyone was signed, though it proved next to impossible to actually read the autograph. The stage itself was a small elevated platform in front of a bare brick wall framed by thick, deep red stage drapes. A single barstool and microphone stand were bathed in the stage lights, standing in stark contrast to the otherwise dimly lit locale. Each table had a small menu and a candle. Much to Pel’s frustration the stools couldn’t be moved or adjusted. Some alternative rock tune played over the speakers and try as they might, neither Karen nor Pel could quite place the song despite its familiarity.

“Oh, thank you,” Karen said as Pel handed her a glass of beer. “So, what do you think? Neat looking place, right?”

He looked around at the place, nodded to himself though his face suggested he didn’t fully agree, “Yeah, I guess.”

“It kinda reminds me of Tequi-la-la a little bit. Cozy, homey. Has that… authentic look.”

Pel took a sip from his beer, frowned, and said, “Thing is- and you’re right, it does remind me of Tequi-la-la. But I’m a little tired of the place, y’know? To me, it’s the ‘office.’”

“Oh wow, you considering looking for another job Pel?” Karen leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand.

“The bartending was always just something I’d do for just a while.”

“Well? Come on, tell me. Now I’m curious. What’s your dream job?”

He looked at her for a moment, the candle flame shining in his eyes. A soft laugh, a flash of teeth, and a tint of embarrassment, “Promise you won’t laugh?”

Karen spread her arms, “Honey, we’re at a comedy club.”

“Why’d you- you know what I mean.”

“I know, I know,” she smiled and gave him a kiss. “Tell me. Seriously.”

A round of applause and cheers rang through the crowd as the host introduced the first act of the evening. Laughter washed over the audience in waves as act after act gracefully navigated the currents of humor. Through the shadowy silhouettes of the crowd, Karen spotted the highlight of the evening getting ready for the stage. Between clapping and cheering on the previous act, she nudged Pel in the side and gave him a look. Shit was about to get real. With a simple six-string guitar, Sylvester Pemberton took the stage. Perhaps it was because Karen sat so far in the back or perhaps it was because of the guitar, but for some reason, he looked like a kid preforming at some high school show for parents and teachers. Nonetheless, he found his stride and had the audience in tears with his catchy tunes and on-point lyrics, Karen included. As the final act of his show, Sylvester gave a new song loaded to the brim with dark humor. As the song reached its high point, a series of ‘ oooh’s ran through the audience:

_ For God's sakes, you must be as old as the sun _

_ Your Social Security Number is 1 _

_ You're deaf, dumb, and blind, and an amputee _

_ You donate your blood every time that you pee _

_ Your arthritis acts up whenever it rains _

_ You're so old your penis has varicose veins _

_ Oh, why don't you die, Grandpa? _

_ Why must you fight? _

_ You old motherfucker _

_ Just walk toward the goddamn light _

Even Karen swallowed her laughter for a moment, eyes wide and she shot Pel a worried look before bursting into laughter. Although chuckling along, Pel just shook his head and finished his beer.

_ It's all over now _

_ My granddad is dead _

_ A mysterious blow _

_ To his wrinkled old head _

_ Before I collect _

_ A small oversight _

_ But everything should work out all right _

_ I'll start working on my grandma tonight _

“Thank you!” Sylvester shouted over the thundering applause and roaring cheers. The crowd simmered down as there was a break between the acts. Music came back on the speakers and idle talk bloomed between the patrons. Seeing him navigating through the crowd, Karen waved him over to their table.

“Great show Sly, we had a blast,” she gave him a hug.

“Thanks, Karen,” he swapped to an Elvis impression, “thank you very much, uh, huh. Who’s this?”

“This is my boyfriend Pel. Pel, this is Sylvester.”

Sylvester’s smile faded slightly but returned as the two shook hands, “Pleasure. You really got that singing comedian thing down.”

“Thanks, man. So, what’s up? Haven’t seen you in a while, Karen.”

Karen gave him a quick summary of what had happened as well as where she and Pel met. The trio moved from their table to the bar where Sylvester offered to buy them a round. Karen settled with a Dr. Pepper and Pel had another beer. After he was brought up to speed, Sylvester said, “Man, that must’ve been though. So, Pel… you- what do you do? A singer as well? You guys met at Tequi-la-la, right?”

“Bartender, though to be fair this is the first time I’ve seen Karen drink  anythin ’ stronger than orange juice.”

“Hey, doctor’s orders!” Karen protested. “Oh, that reminds me. What, what’s your dream job Pel?”

Again, a hand rubbed the back of his neck, Pel gave a bashful smile, “I’d like to have my own place, my own club.”

“That’s great Pel!” Karen’s eyes shined with excitement before she gave him a big hug and showered his cheek with kisses. “Good on you. Dream big and loud I say.”

“Uh-oh, you’ve fired up the entrepreneur in her,” Sylvester chuckled into his beer. “You’re on your own pal, sorry. Can’t help you now. Another round?”

“I’m good, thanks,” Pel said.

The trio sat by the bar talking for several hours. With alcohol already greased up the wheels, Pel admitted more and more to his dream. Karen kept on asking for details, genuinely intrigued, and interested. Sylvester chimed in with the occasional comment every once in a while, though remained more of an observer tending to his beer for most of their talks.

* * *

The next day Karen and Pel took it easy, spending most of the morning up to around lunch recovering from their hangover. Karen took it particularly hard, prompting her to swear high and dear never again. During their lunch together the subject of Pel’s dream job came back up again. As much as Pel tried to dismiss the idea as some far-flung dream that’d never see the light of day, Karen kept on insisting that they’d at the very least look at what his options were. So together they sat down and checked what ULSA had to offer. However, reality soon sunk its poisons fangs into their hopes, “Ah forget it. There’s no way, no way I can afford it.”

Karen massaged her temples, “Yeah… even if you go for the Fully Employed MBA, you’re still looking at a whopping forty thousand. Ouch.”

“Fully employed,” Pel scoffed. “I serve drinks, Karen. Do I look like I have four big ones in my back pocket?”

“You want to see what’s really bad?”

Pel sunk even further down on the sofa, pouting, “No. Not really.” 

“These are the expenses that are NOT included in the program fees; Laptop computer meeting ULSA’s required specifications. Course textbooks and readers. Optional programs and courses such as Global Immersions and Exchange Courses which involve additional fees and expenses…”

“It’s slaughter Karen. They’re gonna butcher me and my finances until I’m old and grey. Hell, they might go after my grandkid’s paycheck. Bastards.”

Karen scrolled further down on the site, skimming through the finance section. Staring at the screen, she started to tap on her fingers as if crunching numbers. Every once in a while, she flipped through the crumbled remains of Pel’s financial papers to double-check.  A line appeared between her brows ; the finger tapping grew more intent. Sharp breaths, hot with frustration flew out from her nostrils. There was a pause before she finally closed her eyes and shook her head. Math was an unforgiving master and, in this fight, it’d given no quarter. In the end, she slumped back on the sofa by Pel’s side. An arm wrapped around his shoulders, fingers found his cheek, and painted it with soft strokes, “I’m sorry Pel.”

“Don’t be baby, you tried. I kinda knew it, just the details were fuzzy. But damn, it’s just so brutal.”

She gave him a soft kiss on the forehead, “Yeah… so much for the American dream, huh?”

“Uhm… is, is this a bad time Ms. Starr?” a timid voice called out from the doorway.

Rose stood in the doorway, clutching a book close to her chest. Her old habit of shrinking down to a scared kitten who constantly apologized for her very existence had come back since Pel moved in. According to the other crew members she was more her usual self among them. Hopefully, given time, she’d outgrow it and get used to having Pel around. Hopefully. “No, don’t mind us. Math just brutally crushed our hopes and dreams, that’s all. What is it, Rose?”

“Well, the thing is- the dingy has been acting up and, and Ronnie had a look at it,” she drew in a trembling breath. “But, ah, we- we might have to send it in for repairs. I’ve looked at some price offers, but wanted to check with you first before-”

Karen stretched out her hand, motioning Rose to hand over her book. Looking over the pages there was the budget on one hand. Where the red numbers almost outnumber the black and green ones. On the other, there was a list of prices for repair jobs as well as some for a brand-new engine of a similar type. It was tempting to just ignore it; Karen had never really had a screaming need for transportation vehicles beyond keeping up basic appearances. Though she had found new appreciation for them ever since she got injured and with Pel around those appearances still needed to be maintained. At least for a while longer. Still, it’d eat out of her budget, one that was already under heavy stress thanks to her translation project. She’d never hear the end of it from Ophelia if she took StarrWARE money for this purpose.

“It’s not pretty Rose, but it’s okay. Take Ronnie with you and try to get the most bang for your buck, okay?” she said, returning the book.

“Yes, Ms. Starr. Sorry Ms. Starr.”

“No, no. It’s okay Rose. The budget is a mess because I have too much going on at once.”

After Rose took her leave, Karen sat there in the sofa elbows on her knees and  hands pressed to her cheeks. A set of fingers danced over her back in a soft ballet. They came and went like a tender breeze before a full palm started its steady accent from her lower back to her neck. She let something akin to a sigh and moan out simultaneously as a pair of big hands firmly pressed their fingers against her skin. Just as it started to hurt, the pressure eased and found a new spot to tease. Like heavy brushes, the fingers ran along her shoulders and upper back as if it was a grand canvas. Karen’s head rocked and rolled with the rhythm, purring almost like a cat. A surprised ‘ooh’ escaped her when the fingers tapped out in favor of knuckles. Harder and firmer, they dug into her skin, reaching muscles that have been left untouched. A hundred tiny spears poked her exposed shoulder, Pel’s breath was warm and inviting as he whispered in her ear, “I like to see you with my t-shirt on.”

“I’d love to see you with nothing on.”

“Well… how ‘bout I sell  everythin ’ then? I get the money to go to school and you, you get to see me with  nothin ’ on. All-day, every day.”

Karen giggled, “How are you going to attend class butt naked?”

He shrugged, “I’ll think of  somethin ’.”

Karen just rocked back and forth in his embrace, lost in deep thought before she said, “I’ll talk to Rose, help you set up a budget. Application isn’t until next year anyway. We’ll see where we are then and I’ll pitch in if needed.”

“For real? But what if that’s not enough? I can’t-”

She put a finger to his lips and smiled, “Don’t fear failure Pel. Fear being in the exact same place next year as you are today.”

A faint whimper escaped him; tears started to well up in his eyes before he buried his face in her shoulder. His arms tensed up; the hug grew firmer almost as if he was terrified to let go. Over the soft sobs and trembling breath, a subtle thank you traveled on the outer fringes of hearing.

* * *

“I’d like...” Lucy skimmed over the menu that hung over the counter, “a Ham & Swiss Panini. And the High Noon.”

“Coming right up, uh... anything else?” the cashier mumbled.

Karen’s head popped from over Lucy’s shoulder, a big grin on her face, “Hi! Yeah, I'd like the Chicken & Quinoa Protein Bowl with Black Beans and Greens. That looks nice, doesn’t it? Oh, oh,  aaand ... The Big Fruit. Thanks, you’re the best.”

Flustered and blushing all the way to the tip of his ears, the cashier rang up their order. The two women navigated through the busy coffeehouse which proved a bit of a challenge for Karen with her large frame and crutches. After looking about for a minute, they realized that all the tables inside were taken so Karen gestured towards one of the tables outside and limped over while Lucy stayed behind to take their order. Although the skies were clouded over and looked like they were just a poor excuse away from crying rain, the temperature outside was quite nice. Gone were the piercingly warm rays of the sun normally associated with Pleasure Pier, though it did give the sea breeze a little more bite when it passed by.

The dishes had not even touched the table before Karen assaulted her food, jabbing her fork, and munching down her food with great enthusiasm. Somewhere between the bites, she managed to slip out, “Oh man. I was starving. And look at this. Just look at it! Precisely what the doctor ordered.”

Lucy’s fingers twitched, tightening the grip on her sandwich, “Glad to hear it. Listen, Kara, this isn’t really anything formal or anything.”

“Yeah?” Karen chewed on her food, one cheek bulging and her fork waving around like a magic wand. “Look, I know I’m the only friend you have in the whole wide world, but don’t you worry pretty bird. You can come see me anytime.”

“Just so you’re aware, next lunch is on you.”

She stopped eating, her lower lip jutted out in a false tremble, “ Luuucy ! That's not fair. Treat me, treat me!”

“Oh, quiet you,” Lucy tossed a napkin at her. “Act your age for once, will you?”

Karen smiled and giggled to herself before continuing to wolf down her meal. Although their meals were quite different in size, they finished at about the same time. Though for what it was worth, Karen had left a noteworthy amount around her mouth in her dash across the finish line. Not that they were competing or anything. Looking at her, Lucy noted that she seems to be in good spirits all things considered, which prompted the question, “What’s your secret Kara?”

“A good sex life.”

It came out with such blunt honesty, complete with dual finger guns that Lucy almost snorted out her coffee, “Freakin’- don’t just- ah, nevermind. You've found yourself a new boyfriend? Well, I suppose congratulations are in order.”

“Why thank you, agent Kuo, he’s quite the catch if I may say so myself.”

A beat passed and Lucy half straightened in her seat with a worried face, “You’re not going to the gym, are you?”

“ Pffft !” Karen made a big X with her arms, “Can’t do that looking like this, now can I? Doctor’s orders and all that.”

“Right...” she sunk back in her chair, cupping her coffee close. “So how did you guys meet, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Need to update the file you have on me, agent Kuo?” Karen said with a wink and smile, though just how genuine either where was hard to tell. 

“No, I just- listen Kara, we’ve been through a lot and we have our disagreements, but despite it all, I care about you. So, what I'm trying to say- is- right now, we’re just two friends talking, catching up.”

Karen didn’t say anything, she just sat there, resting her cheek on top of her knuckles. Watching. Thinking. Processing. Like a rubber band stretched to the outer limits, the silent moment grew more and more awkward. Just as it was about to snap, Karen said, “Honesty looks good on you Lucy. I just wish you’d wear it more often.”

Before Lucy could get in another word, Karen leaned forward and as if a damn had burst, spewed out a rather extensive summary of her relationship with Pel. How they met, where he worked, his hopes and dreams for the future, and for some reason she went off on a weird tangent related to his shoe size. By the time they’d reached the bottom of their respective drinks, Karen said, “But enough about me and Mr.  Lova-Lova . What have you been up since I saw you last? Which were under less peaceful circumstances now that I think about it.”

“Oh, I've been given a new assignment,” Lucy shrugged as if it was no big deal.

“New assignment. Oh, now that sounds interesting. Do tell,” Karen started, sounding more like a housewife about to hear the latest recommended smut novel before she suddenly grew serious. “Wait, you’re not leaving me, are you? Is this a permanent thing or?”

“I doubt it, it’s just so I don’t sit twiddling my thumbs on tax payer dollars while you’re recovering.”

Karen let out a sigh of relief, “You had me worried there for a sec. So. Assignment. C'mon,  gimme ,  gimme all the juicy details.”

“Listen, it’s not that big of a deal. Just... helping the ATF out with chasing down some gunrunner.”

“Uh-huh. Just you and a bunch of ATF agents working the field, huh?”

“Y-yeah? No, it’s just the two of us.”

“Is he hot?” Karen waggled her eyebrows.

Lucy gave her a flabbergasted look, “What? No- wait, what does that have to do with anything?”

“Come ‘ere Lucy, come,” Karen leaned over the table as far as she could while coaxing Lucy closer with her fingers. She rolled her eyes and leaned in as well and Karen continued, “All I'm saying is... Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms. Those guys have got to know how to party. Maybe not as much as the DEA guys, but they’re not that good looking if you ask me.”

“Karen?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not asking you. About that. At all.”

She spread her hands out wide with a surprised and slightly disappointed expression on her face, “I’m just trying to look out for you, girl. Let you get some of that action. I'm getting mine.”

“Oh my...!” Lucy groaned and leaned deep back into her chair, almost tipping it over. “What is wrong with you, is that all that you’re thinking about?”

Karen gave it a moment of thought, “Maybe I’m in heat? I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Look, look, Lucy... I'm sorry, alright? Now come on, tell me more about your assignment.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because I want to hear about it you dummy. Friendship is a two-way street, yeah? I’m looking out for my friend.”

Lucy sighed, hard to argue against a point she’d made a few minutes earlier, “Alright listen, I can’t go into full details because we have a sting operation coming up. Our target is an elusive little prick so we’ll try to bait him out. They want me to be part of it, so I might have to skip town for a while. Don't burn it down while I'm away, okay?”

“Would I do that? I'd never do that. Nu-uh, not this extra-terrestrial.”

“Speaking of which, did you know that they’ve started to implement you into the Beam Me Up art installation out in the desert?”

Karen guffawed to the point where a few passersby made a light jolt and sent daggers her way with their eyes. She didn’t seem to care in the slightest, assuming that she registered their glares in the first place, “You mean that crappy looking paint stain in the middle of nowhere? Stars above... what in the world were you doing out at that sad, pathetic place?”

“Listen... it comes with the job. We were investigating places where our suspect might seek refuge, questioning the locals. That sort of thing.”

Karen’s contagious laughter sat loose through Lucy’s explanation. As nice as it was to see her in a good mood and having a great time to the point of tears, Lucy couldn’t quite bring herself to be swept away by the atmosphere. The smile she wore lacked the warmth of the genuine deal and was held back by her biting on the inside of her lower lip. Her hands rested in her lap, fingers pinching and squeezing one another like a pack of snakes wrestling one another in a pit.

“Ah... my tummy hurts. Beam me up...,” one last chuckle escaped Karen while she wiped away her tears. “So, this gunrunner you’re chasing down, he’s got a thing for little grey men? Or is it the green Martian ladies that tickles his fancy?”

Lucy heaved a sigh before she said, “No. He's taking care to stay out of reach of the law by infiltrating and exploiting small communities and towns. Apparently, that’s how he finances his many escapes across the country, by scamming people.”

“Hmm, quite the character. What shady stuff could he be pulling off with a few hundred gallons of paint in the middle of the desert though?”

She shrugged, “From what I've heard the latest take is that you are the last remaining and rightful heir to the throne of Atlantis. Kind of like a New Age spin on the whole Anastasia... tsar debacle from way back when.”

“You're kidding, right? Please, Lucy. Look me in the eye and tell me you’re kidding,” Karen’s face was one of confused amusement.

“It’s what I've heard. They even had brochures for it, complete with a look-alike.”

Karen went off on another rollercoaster of laughter, stomping her good leg and smacking the table for good measure. Between heaving breaths of air, random comments slipped past only to be drowned in the next volley of laughter. From what Lucy could gather the comments cycled through I'm dying; I can’t breathe and I'm gonna wet my pants. There might have been a few others, but they were beyond Lucy’s ability to hear. People who walked by sent curious glances, some even paused and chuckled to themselves before moving on. It took several long and agonizing minutes for Karen to settle down to the point where she could walk. Even during their walk back to the car and the ride back to her dingy, the giggle never really left Karen.


	7. Rich Girl

A thud shook through the bed, nudging Pel just beyond the edge of his sleep. Barely a quarter awake, he squinted into the dark bedroom. Then he heard it, short shallow breaths interrupted by irregular gulps. Someone beyond his back, on the other half of the bed, shifted around with sharp and tense movements. With a drowsy effort, he rolled slightly over, peering over his shoulder. In the shadows of the night, he saw Karen’s silhouette sitting up straight and alert. A question died on his dried-up tongue. Finally, she settled down, helping herself with a glass of water that she drank from with sloppy greed.

Pale threads of moonlight slipped through the cracks of the curtains. Pel’s descent into a dreamless sleep got interrupted by the mattress shifting as Karen sank back down, snuggling closer to his back. An arm reached around; her hand searched for his. Pel stayed afloat in sleeps endless sea because Karen’s fingers kept brushing through his hair. One of her legs coiled itself around his, pulling him closer. As the minutes dragged on, Karen’s breathing became soft and steady. Finally, Pel drifted off into the vast depths of sleep.

“So, uh, you okay?” last night’s question had been brought back from the dead and graced the living during breakfast.

She gave a dismissive wave of her hand, “Just a bad dream.”

“Yeah? Must have been pretty bad.”

Karen poked at her bacon, resting her chin on her palm. After a moment of silence, she just shook her head and resumed eating. Just then her phone pinged with a new text message, “Oh, would you look at that. My stuff has arrived.”

“You work with those new screen phones, right?”

“Smartphones,” she corrected him with a light bob on his nose. “What about it?”

Pel shrugged, blowing on his hot coffee, “Just thought it a bit funny that you don’t have one yourself.”

“Yeah, look at me the old-timer. Or maybe I'm just a sucker for buttons,” she put the phone away and quickly finished the rest of her breakfast. “Anyways, I got to fly. Catch you later, love you.”

“Take it easy young lady,” he called after her.

After brushing his teeth, Pel took a moment to look around in the bathroom. It was a far cry from the back room of  Tequi-la-la with its dark grey tiled floor, luxurious sink and exquisite woodwork on every closet door. He took a seat on the edge of the bathtub, stylishly illuminated by spots straight above it. If the large shower was paradise, the tub was heaven on earth. While Karen wasn’t your typical girly woman with a metric ton of beauty products at the ready, she did know a thing or two about enjoying a nice, warm bath. Together they’d explored the magical possibilities of bath salts in various combinations. Ideal for chipping away fatigue from a long day's work and excellent for foreplay. 

Strolling down the hallway with no particular place to go, his gaze wandered from the windows that framed the Pacific Ocean, to quality furniture and paintings hanging on the walls. Just about everything from the spotlights in the ceiling to the carpet on the floor looked and felt like it’d been pulled out from a large and fat money bag. Best of all was the smell, or rather the lack thereof. It didn’t have that brand  stinkin ’ new smell that so many things had when they were fresh from the  shop. Truth be told,  Pel’d take that any day over the stench of cigarette smoke infested clothing and exhaust from passing traffic that had been the hallmark of his parking lot home.

He took a moment to look at one of the paintings. It showed a landscape and had a Bob Ross like touch to it. Though appearances could be deceiving, Pel wouldn’t be surprised if it's worth was far higher than its humble and simplistic looks suggested to the untrained eye. Rolling on the heels of his feet, Pel took a deep breath, “Yeah you hit the jackpot.”

“Uhm, excuse me?” the question came so softly that Pel almost jumped out of his good skin. Turning sharply, he came face to face with Rose. Her concerned face turned troubled, “I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, it’s okay. I just- uh, got lost in my own thoughts,” he gave a sheepish laugh. “Some days it feels like I'm  dreamin ’ and...”

“You’re scared you’ll wake up.”

He looked at Rose with an amazed expression. He smiled and nodded in agreement, “Yeah, that’s right. You feel like that too?”

She averted his gaze, a foot scraping lighting against the carpet. Her head bobbed in a barely visible nod, “She- she took me in when I had nothing. I don’t think I'll ever be able to repay her.”

“Ah, don’t sweat it,” Pel tried to pat her shoulder. Rose flinched and pulled back, a sharp tint of fear in her eyes. “My bad, I  didn -”

“No, it’s- it’s okay. I'm sorry too.” An awkward silence overstayed its welcome.

Clearing his throat Pel said, “Was there something you needed? Anything I can help you with or...?”

“Uhm, well Ms. Starr mentioned to me that I could- uh, help you with your finances,” Rose started slowly but as she spoke her words caught momentum, and the occasional nervous laugh leaked through. “I’m not very good at it, like- no formal education. At all. So, I'm self-taught.  But, but Ms. Starr helped me through it. She knows a lot. About finances. And budgets. She's- just not very disciplined. But she’s still the greatest, really.”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” he held up his palms. “Let me get my stuff and we can talk. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Over the next few hours, the two of them went through the tattered records of Pel’s finances. They laid down an overview of expenses and income. When it came to trying to rig his taxes in as much of Pel’s favor as possible, Rose sadly came up short. Still, she made efforts to create a balanced budget as best she could with what she had to work with. Every once in a while, she consulted a notebook that had instructions from Karen. The general idea was that she was happy to help out, though Pel would pull most of his own weight. With that in mind, living expenses got cut substantially and Rose would check if it was okay for Pel to borrow the car so he could commute to work. All in all, things were going rather well until Pel found a piece of paper, “Ah  goddamnit ... I forgot about this one.”

“What is it?”

He let out a heavy sigh and looked at the paper, eyes clouded over by troubles, “A bill for my car. Big one at that. The plan was to push through with overtime, maybe get another job. But then Karen happened and...”

“Oh. Oh this, this is not good Pel,” Rose took the bill and kept shifting from the bill down to the budget and back again. “Not good at all.”

“You think you can help me out?”

Rose shrunk back in her seat, “I- I don’t follow.”

“Lend me some money.”

“Oh,  ooooh ... I’m- I'm sorry,” she glanced down at her notebook and flipped back and forth between the pages. “I don’t know, I don’t think... Uhm, Ms. Starr-”

“It’s just a loan Rose, I'll pay it back of course,” he took a pen and jotted down some numbers that formed a down payment plan. “Something like that.”

“Uhm, uhm...”

“Please? Rose? I can’t go to the bank. Even if I did... the interests would kill me. I'm sure Karen won’t mind. She said she’d help me out, right?”

Rose looked at him her face contorted, “I suppose-”

“Thanks! You're a lifesaver, Rose.”

Her whole face lit up with a bashful smile, “Oh I don’t know...”

* * *

“Stars above! My back is killing me,” Karen groaned in the bathroom doorway. Kimiyo on the other hand remained unfazed and continued to ready the bathtub. “I said-”

“Yes, yes. You're in great pain. Half the state heard your announcement, so there’s little need for another.”

Crossing her arms, Karen retorted with a silent pout. There's just too little empathy in the world. As the warm bathwater got mixed with bath salts, their sent traveled through the air on streaks of hot steam. Inhaling deeply, Karen’s pout faded and a soft smile took its place. Amidst the promise of a well-earned bath, a thought crossed her mind, “Where’s Pel? Have you seen him Kimiyo?”

“I believe he had to take his car to the repair shop or something like that. Ms. Tremens might know more, she saw him last.”

Karen stretched and yawned, “Yeah? Did it work out, their little budget session?”

Drying her hands on an apron, Kimiyo stepped up and helped Karen undress. The two had gotten quite the routine down and Karen got eased into the tub without a hitch, “I believe so. They spent several hours together mulling over numbers. Though you should check with Ms. Tremens for details.”

A handful of warm water poured down over her shoulder; Karen sunk down a few inches more. The ache and soreness of her whole body started to dissolve in the warm bathwater. Behind the tender moans and soft purring, she whispered, “Yeah... I'll see her later.”

Drowsy from her bath with a pinch of grumpiness for being woken up by Kimiyo a couple of hours later, Karen slipped underneath the quilt. Despite the soft pillow and freshly changed sheets, sleep proved to be an elusive guest. Whenever she found herself knocking on sleeps door, the empty half  of her bed pulled her back to the waking night. She lost track of how many times her hand reached out and found nothing but barren sheets. Each time left her with a pang of disappointment. Somewhere along in her sleepless limbo, Karen latched on to Pel’s pillow and hugged it closed. It proved a poor substitute for the real thing, though eventually, she sunk into a shallow and twitching sleep.

* * *

“Here ya go, breakfast for champs,” Ted couldn’t wipe off his grin even if his life depended on it.

With her blonde hair going in seven different directions, Karen gave her egg white omelet a disinterested poke with her fork, “You’re awful cheerful-looking this morning Ted. Anything special happened?”

“Ya bet it did! Going to catch the boxing match tonight with my boy.”

“Ah,  Jack right?”

Ted gave out a hearty laugh, “Ya got close, I'll give ya that. But no, it’s Jake. Best kid you could ask for.”

A father brimming with pride and acting like an excited child at the same time, how could Karen not smile? He'd probably cruise around on cloud nine for the rest of the day. Very little, if anything could put a damper on his mood. Breakfast passed without incident. Without Pel. Throughout the morning and noon, Karen shifted from one room to the next. If she wasn’t pacing about with a slight limp, she found herself a seat by a window and set her sights on the horizon. Just after lunch there was still no word. Pel wouldn’t return her calls so she quit trying after the third voice mail. Karen got ready to do some work out when she met Rose, “Rose, got a minute?”

“Uh, sure Ms. Starr.”

“Look, did Pel say anything to you yesterday? Where he’d go? Something about his car?”

Rose cowered and tensed up, “Uh, he- he wanted a loan... to fix his car. And, and I let him. But he said he’d pay it back! So that’s something...”

“Oh-kay,” Karen thought it over for a moment before shrugging it off, “As long as he’ll pay it back, I guess it’s fine. Just make sure he does before doing it again, okay?”

“Yes, of course, Ms. Starr,” Rose nodded, her cheeks turned pink.

Just then Karen stretched her neck as if something had caught her ear. Heading back to her bedroom, she picked up the pace with each step until she snatched up her phone from the bed, “Hello? Pel?”

“Hi Karen, got your messages. It’s my bad.”

She let out a sigh of relief before she sank down on the side of the bed, “I was worried you know.”

“...sorry.”

“Where were you? Nevermind, where are you now? I'll get someone to pick you up.” Something loud rumbled and roared in the background, drowning Pel’s words. “Pel? Pel? Are you there? I didn’t catch that.”

“I said, I'm at the airport. Ran into some old friends of mine from out of town and, it got late. We overslept and almost missed their flight.”

Karen snapped her fingers a few times to get Kimiyo’s attention and waved her inside, “Okay look just- stay put, I'll get you picked up. Wait for us in the lounge or something at the airport.”

“Karen, relax. I'm sorry, I really am. But I'm okay, I'll come back home right away. Could you have the dingy ready to pick me up? Catch you in a minute.”

Her shoulders sagged, “Okay. See you soon. Drive safe. I love you.”

* * *

Karen studied a piece of hardware documentation, the kind that started as a post- it sized thing and somehow ended up at twice the size of a six-man dinner table once unfolded. Her heterochromia eyes squinted, trying to make heads or tails of the fine print. Over the paper horizon and beyond the glass wall to between the meeting room and the working floor she could see her staff diligent at their workstations. With just a passing glance it looked like any other IT company weaving code and squashing errors. However, if one took but a moment and really looked a different picture took form.

Stacks of old coffee cups and empty cans of energy drinks crowded around many keyboards. Just east of the mousepad there were either a couple of dirty plates or leftovers from some take-away. Heads hung low, shoulders sunken down as if wearing a coat too big and heavy for comfort. Bloodshot eyes had a glassy lifelessness to them as they looked not at the screen, but somewhere beyond. Fingers always rested on the keyboard, though they moved as if they’d been smeared with tar. Every now and then they trekked from their desks around in the room, either to check with a coworker or just a bathroom break. Whatever their destination, they dragged themselves like hollow husks.

The sight made her pause, a pained guilt clouded her eyes. Turning her attention back to the paper she finally realized she was holding the bedsheet sized paper the wrong way, a light wrestling match ensued to set things right. Through a light blizzard of white paper, she caught sight of Nico entering, “Give me a second here, let me see if I can...”

“Need a hand?”

“More like... a couple of octopuses. Argh, nevermind!” she stuffed it all together in a crude ball that got firmly shoved into the nearest trash bin. Puffing a strand of hair out of her face she said, “So, what can I do for you?”

“Just wanted to show you this,” he handed her a printout.

“Alright, alright. Let's see here...” Going over the page it showed a log of a large number of packets which came from a single address. The good news was that they were all being stopped by the company firewall. “When did this- ah, the date is up here. Got any ideas what it might be?”

“Judging by the timing I'd say it’s related to the movie news app we’re making for Richards Majestic Productions.”

She looked at Nico, pondering, “Did we- yes. Yes, we did agree to that. By the looks of it, it’s just some script kid that’s poking around. Probably tries to impress online strangers with the latest celebrity images. Is it only our windows servers?”

“Still checking that for starters, I’ve cleared the / tmp folder on our Unix servers just to be on the safe side.”

Karen nodded, “Be sure to check for modified / etc /passwd, / etc /shadow, or other system files in the / etc folder while you’re at it.”

“Got it. Maybe we should consider upgrades?”

She returned the print out to him, “No. We simply don’t have the money. Keep an eye on it though. Last thing we need is a lawsuit.”

“Yeah, okay. You staying for lunch or...?”

“No, I just- Oh shit, what time is it?” Karen checked her cellphone. “I’m late for my doctor’s appointment.”

“That can’t be good.”

Holding the cellphone in place with her shoulder, Karen gathered her things in a hurry, “C’mon, c’mon pick up... Pel? Hi, it’s me. Could you give me a lift? I'm at the office. Yeah, for the doctor’s appointment. Great, catch you outside.”

* * *

Pel had just slipped into the parking lot outside of the StarrWARE office when Karen came crashing out the door, “Whoa, whoa, take it easy  there young lady.”

She didn’t say a word, not even giving him a smile. Instead, she just shot him an impatient look as the car door slammed shut. Two intersections later and Karen’s stress was already starting to bleed over to him. From the corner of his eye, he saw her tapping her lips while one of her legs bounced with rapid impatience. Of course, they didn’t have the devil's luck when it came to traffic lights either. At every turn, they always seemed to just miss the light. And every time, Karen’s hand curled into a fist while she scanned up and down the road. Licking his lips and forcing a smile he said, “How about we go out to eat later? My treat.”

Her brows snapped together, “Your treat? With the money you’ve borrowed from me?”

“Karen-” A raised hand silenced him.

“Sorry, that came out wrong. Look, I just have a lot on my plate right now.”

The drive carried on in silence. Whatever words Pel tried to conjure up died an early death on his lips. By the time they parked outside the doctor’s office, Pel just let out a defeated sigh before he said, “Paycheck comes in later this week. I'll pay you back then, fair?”

Karen stopped in the door and looked over her shoulder, “Yeah... okay. Just don’t go overboard.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die. There's this new Thai place, prices seem fair. You like Thai, right?”

She seemed to be in a world of her own, though she finally nodded as if a distant echo finally caught up to her and made sense. Only when she was out of sight did Pel allow himself to relax. Still not one to take chances, he backed out of the parking lot and took to the road again. His traffic light luck had apparently better things to do today. Despite the setback, Pel turned on the radio and hummed along to a merry pop tune and laughed at the cheap jokes the radio host made. Weather was nice,  traffic, not a total nightmare, and his car was remarkably clean all things considered. Moving all of his possessions and clothes onboard a yacht did wonders to clean things up.

After parking his car, Pel swung by the Thai restaurant and made a reservation before getting a copy of their menu. Next stop was a nearby ATM. His eyes lit up when he saw the balance on his account. It hadn’t been that big in years. A charming smile on his lips, a light dancing sway to his hips, and Pel made a withdrawal. The cash didn’t come out to the rhythm of the merry tune stuck in his head, but Pel didn’t mind. Cash was king, anytime, anywhere. Checking and double-checking the prices on the menu one more time Pel counted his money. Next stop;  Ponsonbys .  Ponsonbys cologne,  Ponsonbys perfume, and a nice-looking suit later Pel looked sharp as a razor with a wallet about as thick as a razors blade.

Next stop on Pel’s list was Las  Cuadras , a restaurant deli, and bar. He walked past the waiter with a confident swagger to his stride, flicking a twenty-dollar bill to shush her up. With a tint of showmanship, he took a seat by a table where two other men waited, “You’re late.”

Pel  lowered his head,  “Sorry, my bad. My lady needed a lift to the doctor’s office. So, Mr. Forman, Mr. Kane. Are we going to talk shop?”

Carlton Kane looked up from his phone, his pale blue eyes stood in sharp contrast to his bright red hair, “What you got?”

Pel  adjusted the lapels of his jacket, “ I'm not such a savvy investor... I want to open up a chain of venues... check out foreclosures.maze-bank.com, and what they have out for foreclosure... I can open you the best nightclub in the whole state. Any of them. Seriously.”

Reginald Forman frowned, nibbling lightly on a fingernail while he exchanged a look with Carlton. A moment passed in silence. Pel swallowed, did his pitch fail? His cool confident façade was just that, a façade that was just about as thick as a coat of paint. But if the suit and swagger were enough to get a foot in the door, who cared? Fake it ‘til you make it. When a waiter came by and asking if they were ready to order, Pel didn’t dare to speak up. He'd sound like he’d gotten his balls stuck in a vice. Instead, he played it cool and dismissed the waiter with a gesture. 

“Somewhere between a million and a million and a half,” Carlton said, showing Reginald his phone. “Split it three ways that’s half a million apiece.”

“Thirty-thirty split doesn’t get fairer than that gents,” Pel flashed them a broad grin, topped off with a wink. Carlton on the other hand was still not sold. Guess that’s what you get when you have half a century worth of life experience. Reginald was in the same ballpark, though he was so damn quiet Pel had a hard time reading him. 

“You got half a million?” Reginald finally said, still nibbling on a nail.

“Here and now? No, but I can get it on relatively short notice,” Pel shrugged before leaning back his chair. They could probably smell a bullshitter from three states away, but Pel gambled on that a pinch of truth would throw off their scent.

“How short?”

Pel gripped the arm of the chair, “How long does it take to sell a yacht?”

Reginald stopped nibbling and just blinked at him. It started slow and subtle, but the smile kept on growing and the laughter rocked harder and harder through his body, “Not the answer I expected, but I like it. We'll have a chat with the bank. You just sell that yacht,  y’hear ?”


	8. Kryptonian 101

Later, in the evening Karen and Pel were enjoying themselves at the new Thai restaurant. For the occasion, Karen wore a sleeveless red blouse with a matching pencil skirt along with complimentary make-up and earrings. Pel on his end had some of his finer white shirts and navy-blue jeans. Over the back of the chair next to him rested his caramel brown blazer. For starters, they shared some grilled pork skewers marinated in classic Thai spices served with fresh cucumber slices. In addition, they had a side of sticky rice. Chewing his food, Pel said, “So, how was the doctor? All good?”

“Hm? Oh, oh yeah. Things are looking great. He'll even let me do lunges now.”

He paused, a glass of water to his lips, “Wait, you’re going to be exercising even more?”

“Yeah...? Physical therapy and all that? Got to rebuild that muscle.”

“That makes sense I guess,” Pel picked up his fork and knife. For a moment they just hung over his dish. A few times he tried to resume eating, but the motion died almost as soon as it started. “It’s just- you're going to take it easy, right?”

She blinked at him before s he brightened, “Aw, look at you. Being all worried about me. That's cute.”

“No- well, yeah I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” Pel sighed and looked around, collecting his thoughts. “But... how do I say this?”

Karen gave a half shrug, “I don’t know. Why don’t you just come out and say it? Not everything needs to look neatly wrapped up with a ribbon on top.”

“You don’t plan on getting... Uhm, bigger?”

She eyed him carefully, not saying a word while chewing on her food. “Look,” she started before helping herself with some water, “if I'll end up bigger, then I'll be bigger. Nothing wrong with that, is there?”

He wiped his mouth with the napkin, “Why are you set on building muscles? You’re a lady. Why are you ruining your body?”

Karen squared her shoulders, “Try to see it my way, I like it. And all I do is eat well and exercise. No drugs.”

“Yeah, but-” Pel started but swallowed his words as the waitress came up to their table.

“Teriyaki Thai Style?”

“Oh, here,” Karen pulled her fork and knife aside. The waitress nodded and smiled. A of chicken stir-fried in luscious house-made teriyaki sauce served with steamed broccoli and carrot stood before her. She took a moment to fan the steamy dish closer to her face, relishing in the smell.

“And Pad See- Ew for you sir,” the waitress put down a dish consisting of wide rice noodles seasoned with sweet, dark soy sauce and stir-fried with egg, broccoli, and carrot. “Could I get you anything else?”

Karen gestured at her half-empty glass of water when Pel started talking in a stranger language. Even the waitress was taken a little aback, though she was quick to smile and by the sound of it complimented Pel before taking her leave. Her eyes went from Pel to the waitress and back again, “Okay... so you speak Thai?”

“Eh, a little bit. A few years back I went backpacking through the country, did some odd jobs here and there to finance the trip. Pick up a phrase or two along the road.”

“Really?” Karen turned her attention back to her food, “Was it easy to learn?”

Pel got silent, twirling noodles around his fork. His gaze went from one side of the restaurant to the other. On the far end was a Buddha statue with various plants around it, the tickling sound of the pool fountain at its base lingered behind the soft background music. Most of the seats were taken, primarily by adults. There were few if any families with small children present. The glass and concrete front entrance stood in contrast to the wooden furniture and interior walls. Deep in the background, opposite of the Buddha stood the bar, stylishly illuminated making the two bartenders appear as a pair of shifting shadows. Having collected his thoughts, Pel gave a light shrug, “It was very different. Never got a hang of reading or writing it. Why?”

“Just curious. I've been working on a translation app. Looks like it could have been handy to have back then.”

“Yeah, the thing is,” Pel took the menu on their table and pointed at some of the letters, “when you look at this, you’d think oh, that’s an alphabet, right?”

Karen nodded in agreement, “Let me guess, it’s not that simple?”

“Yup, right on the dollar young lady. The script is in fact not a true alphabet but an abugida.”

“A what now?” she frowned, mumbling the word to herself a few times. “That sounds like some germ or something tiny that lives in the great barrier reef.”

Pel snorted out a quick laugh, “Okay, I haven’t heard that one before. But anyway... an abugida is a writing system in which the full characters represent consonants with diacritical marks for vowels; the absence of a vowel diacritic gives an implied 'a' or 'o'.”

“Uh-huh...”

“I lost you, didn’t I?”

She rested her chin on her palm, leaning in closer for a better look, “No, no... I’m just taking it in nice and slow. Continue.”

“Sorry young lady, but that’s about as far as I got.”

“Huh? Really? It's that hard?” Karen looked genuinely surprised.

“Yeah, or just so... alien, you know?” Pel helped himself with another drink, mumbling into his glass, “There was also something weird about consonants and how they were written.”

Their conversation died down, each enjoying their food in silence. After a few minutes, Pel picked up where they’d left off, telling stories about his back-packing exploits. The language barrier, happy little accidents in the form of detours, and some odd cultural differences came out as highlights. Throughout the stories, short and long, Karen only paid half attention. Not fully zoned out, but never really on the edge of her seat either. The gears in the back of her head had started to turn, creaking and groaning as drops of long-lost memories started to grease them ever so slightly.

* * *

“This is bullshit!” muffled words managed to punch their way through the closed door to assistant director Johnson’s office and into the hallway.

Lucy gave the secretary a troubled look, though he was too occupied with his e-mail to notice. Only when the door got yanked open and the ATF agent stomped out, borderline frothing at the mouth and his face contorted into a crimson rage did the secretary glance up from his monitor. Even then all he mustered for a response was subtle knitting of his brows along with a disappointed sigh. His tender fingers continued their gentle tapping on the keyboard for a moment before he finally acknowledged Lucy’s presence with a barely visible glance, “The director will see you now. Please close the door behind you.”

“Sir?” Lucy’s hand was still on the door handle when she spoke. In the corner of the office sat a short African American woman, swiping and tapping on her phone in complete silence, “Is everything in order?”

“Just some pointless drama between the agencies, nothing to worry about. Please be seated agent Kuo.”

She sank down in the seat, rigid and uneasy, “I trust you’ve read my report?”

“Mm, good work agent Kuo. Good work. We'd like you to continue working on the case, maintain your cover as a firearms dealer, and follow Joseph’s group a little closer.”

Her forehead creased, “I’m not sure I understand sir. Joseph Bertrand III is in Grapeseed. We have more than enough charges; he can be arrested at any time-”

Johnson raised his hand, “Your target is not Joseph. We'll keep an eye on him, don’t you worry. But your priority is a resent member of his group. A doctor... Kama? Kala, that’s it. Dr. Kala Kapur. Her name came up in your list of members.”

He offered her a file and Lucy flipped through it, skimming its content, “I’m sorry sir, but I still don’t follow. This doctor- there's nothing here, not even a parking ticket.”

“We’ve reasons to believe that Dr. Kapur could use her expertise to make biological weapons and use them against America,” he took a sip from his ice tea, the ice cubes clattered in his glass. 

“Quite the leap for Joseph to go from peddling fully automatic weapons to bioterrorism if you don’t mind me saying so sir.”

Johnson let out a barely audible grunt, “We fear that Los Santos his is last stop before heading abroad and that he wants to stretch his legs in the big league. Someone with Dr. Kapur’s resume is just what he needs to get a foot in the door. Joseph has been on the run for so long, he knows a lot of our tricks. This doctor, not so much and if you stick close to her, you’ll just be another face in the crowd.”

Lucy bit her lip and nodded, “Yes sir. And, if for the sake of argument, Dr. Kapur and Joseph split ways? I just don’t- can’t quite imagine that she’d stay for very long. Given her illness, this is most likely only temporarily.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there, agent Kuo. Your priority is the doctor. If they split, the ATF can have Joseph. Do I make myself clear agent?”

She rose from her seat, “Like a bell sir.”

* * *

“Oh man, I’m beat,” Pel’s words drowned in a yawn. “Sweet dreams.”

“Yeah, good night,” Kara lay flat on her back, looking up at the ceiling. Whenever sleep tried to embrace her, she bit down on the inside of her lip. She strained her ears, cutting through the fading tinnitus to focus on Pel’s breathing. It didn’t take too long for it to turn into a soft and steady rhythm. Regardless Kara waited a little while longer just to make sure before slipping out of bed. Helping herself with a glass of water, she stood by the bathroom doorway looking at any sign of Pel noticing her absence. Once confident that he was sound asleep, Kara tiptoed out of the bedroom like a cat sneaking up on its prey, and sunk down in her office chair.

Light from her desk lamp jabbed into her eyes with a sharp sting. The boot sequence of her laptop dragged on forever and ever. When Kara finally arrived at her faithful desktop, she was about to give the keyboard a piece of her mind only to stop just in time. She wasn’t alone and so instead of hammering at the keyboard with fierce impatience, Kara typed as quietly as she could. Searching through StarrWARE’s servers she found what she was looking for, though her shoulders sank with disappointment when she learned that Thai hadn’t been a language that they’d prioritize. At best there were a handful of rudimentary sentences that worked. Drawing a deep breath, Kara steeled herself and went to work. Through the long hours of the night, she worked diligently at laying the foundation for adding Thai as a translatable language. Comparing her own alien rune notes with Thai language lessons found online and then applying that knowledge to the software. By the crack of dawn, Kara had a somewhat crude prototype for Thai. It could use some more polish, but that was a task she could delegate to someone at the office. Once the Thai to English translation was sufficiently accurate, she’d secure a copy and apply it to Kryptonian. Hopefully, she’d get something that actually made sense and not gibberish. Now all she could do was wait, wait for the prototype to be refined and the program to learn. She’d give it a good week and then start the real work.

* * *

There was an eerie calm over the StarrWARE office. Save the muffled sound of traffic outside, the office was quiet as a library. The high heels on Kara’s shoes click-clacked on the floor as she crossed the reception area with a confident stride. Everyone should be at home; the office should be deserted. Even if she ran into someone, Kara could cook up some excuse or another on the spot if needed. Crunch time or simply taking advantage of the office training equipment would suffice. A small sigh of relief escaped her when she found the office area on the second floor deserted. Only the humming of desktops and swirling screensavers were there to welcome her.

Clutching the strap of her handbag, Kara opened the door to the server room. Not a soul to be found. If it weren’t for the five-day-old pizza slice that had been left behind on the desk, it’d be perfect. Wasting no time, Kara settled down by the desk and fished out her little invention from her bag. A faint sound caught her attention and she froze in place. For a brief second her eyes darted back and forth between the doorknob and her invention. Seconds scraped by like nails on a blackboard before Kara lunged forward and locked the door. Swallowing and steading her breathing, Kara strained her ears to the limit. She even went as far as sniffing along the edges of the doorframe. Nothing. She looked down on her trembling hand, clenching it to calm herself, “Stars above, I’m a wreck. Alright, back to business. Let’s see…”

She worked as fast as she could without compromising accuracy. Theory checked out, but this was the first time she’d actually tested it all in practice. A small mistake could cause this thing for whatever reason blew a fuse and robbed the whole city block of power. Not a pretty picture by any  stretch of the imagination. So as much as Kara wanted to get this over and done with, she’d rather not make any hasty mistakes. Inching behind one of the server racks to connect a cable, Kara huffed and puffed. The darn thing didn’t want to fit into the hole. Alternatively, the hole was moving around like an idiot. Whichever it was, it was bad enough that Kara had to take a break. Swiping sweat from her brow; she took steps away from the narrow space between the two server racks. Streaks of dust-stained her navy-blue blouse and jet-black pants.

Cable still in hand, Kara looked at the door with a longing in her eyes. Even with the AC humming, Kara found it hard to breathe in the small room. Shaking her head, she crawled down on all fours and tried again. The server rack loomed over her and as she inched closer to the narrow space between the rack and the wall for a better view, she found her hand trembling once more. As soon as the faint plastic click of the cable locking into place was heard, Kara pulled back so fast and far she banged her head hard against the opposite server rack, “ Motherfu -!  Owh ,  owh ,  owh … stupid-”

Rubbing the back of her head with a pout, Kara searched through her handbag for the grand prize; one of her bracers. At this stage it was just an early test, so she’d opted to start small and work her way up. She gambled that the two bracers could work independently of one another, at least as far as extracting data from them was concerned. Holding the thick liquid substance that could shapeshift into a bracer like a precious egg in both hands, Kara gently poured it out of its glass bowl and into her invention. Power got turned on and the desk computer bleeped to life, registering that something new had been connected to its system. She ran through the command routines, her program working as intended. A fingernail found her mouth as the system started to connect to the bracelet. It lagged a little, the percentage jerked up after irregular pauses before finally settling on one hundred percent, “Alright!” Kara clapped her hands, “Let’s see… first I want to- use this big bad boy. So…”

Fingers danced over the keyboard; commands came out like a gatling gun. With the added power of the server, the system's response was fast and smooth. With the final command given, the system went to work. Kara rubbed her chin, rocking slightly back and forth in her chair while staring at the screen. Just how much data was stored in these bracers? The number kept climbing and even when it reached high levels by Kara’s standards as a software engineer, it showed no sign of slowing down. Every once in awhile, Kara shot a quick glance at her watch and at the door. **** Hopefully, she didn’t have to spend the night in the office. 

“Stars and stone, just… finish already.”

At long last, the counting stopped. Kara blinked at the final number and frowned. With a careful finger, she counted the digits on the screen, then sank deep back into her chair. Arms folded over her chest and nibbling on a fingernail, the gears in Kara’s head churned. “A hundred. A hundred and fifty…  erh … what’d that be? Zettabytes? Ten and then twenty-one zeroes. Stars above… I’m going to need to buy hard drives. A lot of hard drives.”

* * *

A faint  ping rang out from Pel’s pocket. Putting down a beer crate, he fished his cell phone out to check the message. Through the scratched-up display, he could make out that Mr. Forman and Mr. Kane had talked to the bank and done some quick tours at the various locations. They'd narrowed it down to a couple of places and would like to discuss the details before moving forward. Pel plastered a smile on his face while typing a reply; he’d be happy to meet them anytime and he was looking forward to it. In the spur of the moment, he offered to pay for their dinner meeting as a show of thanks for having them dealing with the bank. Not many seconds passed before Pel realized what  he’d tangled himself into. Just as his fingers started fumbling over the keys, mind racing to compose a face-saving message, a reply came back, “Well shit...”

“Problems with the beer Pel?” the Tequi-la-la manager came in to check on him.

“No, no problem boss. Just thinking how I can keep the cat inside the bag.”

Later that evening Pel had gotten himself ready. He'd pulled out all the stops; his expensive suit, check. A fresh shower, check. Use all the neat cologne and perfume, check. Money in the bank, hard failure. As he tried to button close the sleeve on his shirt, his fingers fumbled more and more each time the second hand on his watch ticked forward. His pacing back and forth in the master bedroom on board the yacht picked up momentum. Nostrils flared up, discarding shallow rapid breaths for deeper and longer breaths, “Oh c’mon! I haven’t got all fucking day you piece of-”

Just then Kimiyo came in with some clean laundry in her hands, “Do you need help, sir?”

“What?!” Pel spun around, taut as a drawn bow. “Sorry I didn’t mean to.... yeah, if you could give me a hand, that’d be great.”

With a calm and professional manner, Kimiyo settled the button dispute, adjusted his collar, and dusted off his shoulders, “Another date with Ms. Starr?”

“Uh, no... she’s busy with something or another,” his words stumbled and tripped over one another as if they were in a hurry to get out. “It’s a boy's night out. Just some friends wanting to catch up.”

“I see,” she gave him a once over and nodded approvingly. “You’ll be the talk of the town looking like that. I don’t recall seeing this suit before. It is really nice.”

He flashed a smile, scratching the back of his neck he said, “Ah, this thing? Yeah, yeah- the boys, you know? They pooled money together and- this is crazy, but yeah, they got me a gift card at  Ponsonbys .”

Straight faced and graceful, Kimiyo went through the wardrobe and put the clean laundry back in place. She asked casually over her shoulder, “Your friends gave it to you? The ones you’re going to meet tonight?”

Pel nodded, his hands fidgeting and coiling around one another like a pair of wrestling snakes, “Well some of them. A couple of them left town earlier so, uh yeah.”

“Enjoy your evening Mr. Tavin. I'll let Ms. Starr know you’ll be home late,” Kimiyo said before taking her leave.

Alone again in the master bedroom, Pel took several deep breaths. Every time he exhaled; the trembling subsided a little. The rapid bouncing of his leg, however, kept coming back a short moment after he stopped pacing around.  He tugged at his shirt collar when in the corner of his eye he spotted Rose walking by in the hallway, “Rose, Rose. Got a minute?”

She flinched at his words, but stopped and stood in the doorway nonetheless, “Y-yes?”

“Cool, cool… uh, the thing is,” fingers ran through his hair, whiffs of his shampoo danced in the air. “I need a favor.”

Her nose crinkled , “Okay.”

Spreading his hands out in a helpless fashion, Pel gave her a smile of innocence and said, “My paycheck hasn’t come in. Something about- transfer error or whatever with the bank.”

Rose swallowed and cleared her throat, “I understand, but,” she inhaled and straightened, “I-I afraid I can’t help you.”

Pel’s head tilted a little at the response, his smile lost some of its shine. His hands hanging in the air, palms skyward as if ready to catch some heavenly reward, “What?”

“You- you’ll just have to make due,” Rose nodded more to herself than to him before she looked him dead in the eye. “I’m sorry.”

She turned to leave. With each step on the soft carpet, Pel’s palms curled inwards.  He chewed on his bottom lip just as one leg shot in front of the other. And again, and again until his firm stride caught up to Rose just as she was about to reach the door, “Wait. Wait, wait… have you- didn’t Karen mention this to you?”

Shrinking back a little, Rose’s words came out strained, yet firm, “Mention what? That- that your loan must be paid back in full first?”

A raised finger swung through the air like a short sword parrying attack, “No, not that… the other thing.”

“No, Ms. Starr didn’t-”

Pel shut the door behind him with a sharp thud,  his lips drew back in a snarl as he leaned in closer to Rose, “You owe her… okay, you owe Karen. She dragged you out of the gutter, fed you, dressed you, hired you. What’d you be without her, huh? Nothing! Not even a drowned puppy.”

“Please…” She cowered further into the bedroom, tears started to well in her eyes, “I-I can’t help you.”

“Yes!” Pel caught his voice, throwing an anxious glance over his shoulder at the door. “Yes, you can. You have to. If, if this doesn’t work out, I’m gone. I’m gone Rose, puff, just like that. You really want Karen to suffer like that?”

Stalking her like a predator, Pel pressed on until Rose bumped into the bed and lost her footing. Sitting on the bed, he loomed over her. His eyes intent and unblinking took in the desperate shine in Rose’s eyes. Hers blinked away tears and on a rare occasion dared to shot a darting glance at the bedroom door. Pel shifted, blocking out the door. The cracks in Rose’s composure grew wider and more apparent with each passing second. Just as it was about to crumble down to a rubble of wailing tears, Pel shot a silent finger to his own lips. Vibrating like a javelin thrown with great force, it together with his glare hit its target with deadly precision. Suffocated sobs and heavy breaths were all that came out, “It- it’s not that easy. Ms., Ms. Starr will be mad with me when she finds out.”

“She won’t. Transfer the money, Rose.”

“I can’t. Please… let me go. Or, or talk to Ms. Starr… if- if she says it’s okay then-”

“Rose?” his voice was soft and tender. “She’s not here. There isn’t time. Help me and repay Karen’s kindness. Transfer the money.”

She hung her head , tears dripped down in her lap as she gave a silent nod.

* * *

It had been quite the trial to convert the raw data from Kara’s bracers into something that human tech could digest. A drawn-out process of trial and error, trying to find a suitable file format for the alien data and not lose too much information in the process. The data came in large chunks which made even the high-end computers at StarrWARE groan and moan just by loading it in. Cutting the data into smaller pieces was doable, though Kara was uncertain just how she’d stitch the parts together once human tech could make sense of them. Or even if cutting it up made the data incomprehensible. Needless to say, the error margins were wide. Regardless Kara pressed on, pushing her knowledge of human tech and the hardware she had at her disposal to its limits. Every once in a while, a eureka moment crossed her mind as tinkering with the alien data jogged her memory.

“Okay! Let’s see,” Kara stretched in her chair, biting back a yawn. “This… this is school material. A good place to start. How do I…? Save as.  Erh … text file, sure why not?”

The computer chewed on its designated task for a while and happily presented the end result once it was done. Gibberish, that was all that Kara could see on the screen. She redid the same process a few more times with different chunks of data until finally, she got something tangible. A text file that showed the weird alien runes. Clapping her hands, Kara drew a breath to calm herself. Bringing up a new terminal window, she started putting in commands and let the translation program run its course. Now came the fun part; waiting. Massaging her shoulder Kara said, “Wonder what you’ll show me. Probably something nice. At this point, anything would be nice. I mean look at me, sitting here all alone and talking to myself. Ah, here we go. Let’s take a look, okay?”

A new file popped up on the screen. There were some odd choices of words scattered about, the occasional sentence that made little sense in terms of grammar, but  overall the end result was readable. She read through it once and frowned. Scrolling back to the top she started anew, looking at her translation notes every once in a while. “This can’t be right. It’s school material, so I guess it could be fiction? But the wording… it looks like- a history book.”

The text covered what seemed to be the old history of Krypton. By human comparison, it’d be around the early years of the Roman Empire. According to these records, there was a time when the many houses of Krypton were united under a single banner. It as a prosperous time, a renaissance in art, architecture, politics, science, and literature. However, as with all things, this was not meant to last. Kara couldn’t quite make out its precise nature since key sentences made no sense whatsoever. But something was found that caused a rift in Krypton and something call the Great Searing took place. Long story short, the Great Searing boiled oceans away to deserts, shattered mountains, and lay most of Krypton barren and bare. When the fires died down and the smoke cleared, only a handful of cities still clung to life. Kandor, the crown jewel, and the capital of Krypton are one of them. In the decades that followed the other cities fell, some swallowed others in a desperate bid to survive, others tore themselves apart either through mismanagement or internal strife. Most however fell prey to the harsh lands that were once the bountiful world of Krypton. By the turn of the second century, only Kandor remained.

Kara sunk back in her chair, an uneasy smile on her face, “It’s fiction. It’s got to be. Humans have plenty of scary fiction that outlines the doom and gloom of the human race. The Matrix, Dark City, and even classics like War of the Worlds.”

That said, Kara’s own words failed at offering her comfort. Even when justifying it as a piece of fiction written or presented in a realistic manner, such as World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War. Granted that was an apple and orange comparison if Kara ever saw one, but the idea  was sound. The translation wasn’t perfect either, there were gaps in the text that Kara couldn’t make sense of. The hairs on the back of Kara’s neck wouldn’t settle down however and she paced around the office with a big rock in her stomach. It was so familiar. Going over the text again, hazy memories of her parents going over this story to stress its importance peeked through the fog.

“Forget it. It’s a sci-fi horror story, end of discussion. If you look at it logically, there’s no way a- a great people like Krypton would- would be the architects of their own doom, right?” Kara scoffed and tried to laugh off the idea, but it only made the trembling in her voice all that more apparent. 

Tears shimmered in her eyes ,  “If anything, the roles should be reversed, right? Look at humans, they- they figured out that, that you can shatter atoms. What did they do with it? Make a bomb! Of course.”

“ Even after all these years, they still have to ride a controlled explosion just to get into orbit. So no, the way I see it, Kryptonians are superior in every-”  She caught her reflection in one of the glass doors. Crutch in one hand, lower lip quivering and a drop of snot peeking out from one of her nostrils. 

Her brows snapped together, “Fine! I’ll prove it.” She jerked the chair into place and swiping away her tears, Kara went to work. Minutes bled into pools of hours as Kara wrestled with Kryptonian grammar, vocabulary, and human code. The proof was there, proof that this was just some tall tale written to make a buck, or whatever they used on Krypton back in the day. Kara just had to find it. When she found passages that spoke of colonies on moons, planets and asteroid mining, Kara held her scrambled notes up in triumph. Perhaps because it was late, but it took a moment before Kara discarded this as evidence of science fiction. After all, she was an alien that not only had traveled from one world to another, she’d somehow bridged the gap between stars. To add insult to injury, the same crappy notes gave Kara a papercut.

There were other passages that mentioned a crown jewel, though Kandor was not mentioned. After some back and forth with the translation program things became a little bit clearer. Yes, Kandor was the crown jewel of Krypton, but the crowning achievement of this golden age was not the city itself. As far as this so-called history book was concerned, that title went to Faster Than Light Travel. Made sense, Kara still hadn’t quite figured out the physics of just how she got here and even the best human minds could only present flimsy equations that contradicted other, more reliable equations. But the question remained, why would such a discovery make a society tear itself apart? Kara dug further into the text and when it offered no more answers, she imported more raw data and had it translated. 

At some point, the text started mentioning something called the Void. This was, as far as Kara could tell, some dimension or something to that effect that was used or accessed during FTL. In the early stages of the FTL program, unmanned drones were sent high and low. The onboard A.I. carried out its missions and returned to Krypton with its report. This was all fine and dandy, though issues propped up when they started using manned flights. Pilots entered and traversed the Void without incident, but they came back… changed. On a surface level, they were just like before. However, when exposed to radiation of a certain combination, their bodies stored it and it acted as fuel to abilities that baffled even the greatest minds of Krypton. Kara’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking, even when she balled them together into tight fists. With great care she checked, double-checked, and checked again the translation. The radiation in question was Ultraviolet C, Ultraviolet B, Ultraviolet A, Infrared-A, Infrared-B, Infrared-C, and what looked like good old visible light. A quick search on the internet confirmed Kara’s suspicions; they were the same output as Earth’s sun.

“It’s me…”  her eyes swam with tears, “it’s me. I’m- I’m the reason Krypton died.”


	9. An Inconvenient Truth

Karen’s shoulder bag hung by a thread at the edge of her fingers, dragging behind her. The limp in her steps was much more apparent as she climbed the stairs on her yacht. Drawn to some distant laugh track and merry dialogue, she abandoned her shoulder bag. It tumbled down a couple of steps, vomiting out some of its content. The clatter of things spilling out didn’t seem to register as Karen couldn’t even muster to look over her shoulder with her bloodshot eyes. Defeated fatigue made her bones like lead. Dried up tears could still be seen on her cheeks. Her mood picked up ever so slightly as she spotted Pel on the sofa, giggling to himself.  The corner of her mouth quirked up , “Honey, I’m home…”

“Oh, hi. How was the off- Karen, what’s wrong? You look terrible.”

A faint shrug, barely visible in the dimly lit living room. Karen climbed on all fours like a great cat into the sofa, snuggling close to Pel. The warmth of his chest, his breath running through her blonde hair, although tensed up by her unusual behavior, was soothing nonetheless. A beat passed and Pel eased into her, an arm folded over her broad shoulders. Curling up in a big ball, Karen looked at the TV without actually looking, “What’s this?”

“Some new comedy about a bunch of incompetent car mechanics.”

“Mm… any good?”

He rested his cheek on the top of her head, “It has its moments. Popcorn?”

Karen’s hand wobbled into the bowl like a dead fish, spilling more than what actually ended in her mouth. Closing her eyes, she shut out the cheap jokes from the TV and drew herself inwards, listening more to Pel’s heartbeat while the rise and fall of his chest rocked her into a half-sleep state. Time and space liquified, ebbing and flowing with soft randomness found in waves licking the coast. Somewhere along this lake of tranquility, Karen registered fingers brushing her hair aside, gentle kisses at the top of her head. Minutes or hours, Karen couldn’t tell, but for a time her worries were as distant as the stars on the night sky.

“Karen?” Pel’s voice sounded like it came from the other side of the galaxy, yet also close enough to be behind her ears. “What’s wrong?”

“…Nothing…”

“Well, uhm… I’m here for you, you know? If you want to talk about it.”

“Mm…” she let out a heavy, drawn-out sigh. “Just stay like this for a while longer.”

A moment came and went on silent feet, “Okay. I can do that. Let me know when you want to go to bed, deal?”

“Mm.”

Dreams and reality stirred together slowly, one influencing the other. Just as Karen was about to slip off the edge and plunge into the depths of real sleep, something brought her back. Each time she opened her eyes, the contact lenses scraped more and more against her eyes and eyelids. Somewhere along the line, the lights in the living room had been dimmed even further in favor of live candles. A couple of glasses of wine rested on the table. Whether they’d always been there or where a fragment of her imagination, Karen could not tell. The blanket over her shoulders was real enough though. Its warmth and softness made her drowsiness all the thicker. A voice, timid and small called  her name from beyond sleeps large doorway. Half raising her head with an effort, Karen squinted. A thread of drool hung from the edge of her mouth, “Huh?”

“No- nevermind Ms. Starr. It’s nothing important. Good night,” a silhouette withdrew deeper into the darkness without a sound.

“Rose…?”

A gentle hand pushed her head down, its soft strokes lulled her back to sleep, “Ssshh… it can wait.”

* * *

A few weeks had passed since that night in the barn, amply labeled Feed Store. As much as Kala tried to wiggle her way out of that situation, the more she spoke the deeper she sank. Therefore, she’d spent the bulk of the night discussing Power Girl together with the man on the stage. He’d presented himself as Joseph Bertrand the Third, whose silver tongue was only rivaled by his charisma. Combine this with a near encyclopedia-like memory of the Bible and it was easy to see why he had a few dozen people in the palm of his hand. Much to Kala’s surprise, Joseph took an interest in her approach to connect science with holy scripture. The two of them sat on the stage and approached the subject of Power Girl from two separate angles.

Ever since Power Girl’s reveal to the world, the scientific community had speculated how she’d arrived. Out of the billions of stars in the galaxy, why this one? Why this one particular grain of sand in the great cosmos? Just a fluke, a happy little accident, or a critical part in some grand cosmic plan? Some jumped in with both feet and embraced the ancient alien theory in earnest, whereas others were more reserved. And since Power Girl wasn’t talking, it was hard to tell one way or the other. Truth be told, there was so much ground to cover, so many subjects that required in-depth exploration that it simply wasn’t possible to do it all in one night. So, at the end of their long talk, Joseph had invited Kala to join them at the next meeting. She’d hesitated, though already being an outsider, she had to start building bridges at some point. Resumes and degrees didn’t carry much weight out here. Who you knew and how you contributed to the community  did. Her talk with Joseph that first night wasn’t much, barely a toe inside the door. But it was all that she had at the moment. She wouldn’t be plowing the fields anytime soon either.

Joseph accepted her, welcomed her into his flock, and shielded her from critics. So that one toe inside the door became another, then another until the whole foot was in and the door started to open just a tad more. Kala was quick to realize that underneath the humble preacher façade that Joseph wore rested a sharp and cunning mind. The way he spoke, questioned, and allowed her to elaborate showed time and time that there was more to him than met the eye. Citing the scripture and doing verbal dances around his flock had become a routine. So, it was perhaps not that surprising that he’d embrace someone who’d challenge his position. Kala released him from his boredom. Or perhaps he really did see God’s hand plucking at Kala’s strings.

After another of their talks, Kala noticed that instead of taking their leave the flock as Joseph called them started reorganizing the room. Tables were brought in and crates set aside. It was clear by the way they moved that this was something they’d done before. Puzzled, she said, “What’s going on?”

“Ah right, you’re new here so you’re probably not familiar with our annual gun show. Would you be interested in making a purchase?”

“I don’t have a need for a gun to be honest,” she sighed. “Or the money for one for that matter.”

Joseph blinked at her, his face worried, “Pardon my bluntness ma’am, but is money tight right now?”

“I still have my savings. And selling most of my possessions helped,” she picked up her crutch, “but I still haven’t found a job so… I have to be disciplined with what I buy.”

“A smart young woman such as yourself can’t find a job. Good God in Heaven, why?” There was genuine pain and anguish to his question. Kala appreciated that he didn’t insult her intelligence by using the usual theatrics he used to spellbind the flock.

She shrugged and eased herself off the makeshift stage, “Honestly? I… my good name and reputation got smeared. Turned into a scapegoat, a… sacrificial lamb if you will. No one wanted to hire me after that. And here I am, exiled from the life I once had.”

Joseph remained by her side, one hand rubbing his chin in deep thought. Every once in awhile, he’d extend and offer his arm for support as Kala limbed towards the exit. An open offer that she could accept or reject at her convenience. She smiled at the gesture and locked her arm with his. He cleared his throat and patted her hand, “If I may be so bold, I’d like to help you.”

Kala giggled and batted her lashes, “Oh Joseph, you’re too kind. But I simply couldn’t-”

“Now, now ma’am, if I may,” he put a finger to his lips. “I think if we all pool our money together; we could help you out.”

“Why… thank you, Joseph. But I honestly don’t like the idea of living off the charity of others.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he wagged his finger at her accompanied with a caring smile. “You’ve done a great deal for us already ma’am. We’re simply paying you your dues.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I like our talks, I really do. It’s helped me tremendously with speaking in front of an audience. I’ve learned a lot from you. That alone is more than enough pay if I’m, to be honest with you.”

Joseph stopped and looked her straight in the eye with a serious expression, “The flock likes you, Kala. You’re one of us now. We take care of our own as if we’re family. Now, I can appreciate your honesty and desire to contribute. So how about this? Let me talk to the flock. They got kids. Nobody in town as smart as you. You home school their kids and they pay you a little something, something for your trouble.”

Kala hesitated. It was a sound offer, probably the best this tiny town could offer her. If nothing else, it would give her more time. Time to work on her thesis, write some papers, and get them published. Maybe it’d be the way to go if she wanted to scrub her reputation clean. Plus getting some sort of education into the next generation would prevent them from becoming even more god-fearing than their parents, whom as far as she could tell, were a lost cause. She nodded, “Deal.”

* * *

It had taken weeks of trials and errors, plus barrels worth of foul language before Kara managed to get the hang of converting raw Kryptonian data over to something human tech could handle. From there she’d managed to create scripts that automated the process. While a lot of the heavy lifting was done at StarrWARE, the final product, be it video, audio, text, or image, was shipped over to a server onboard the yacht. She oversaw the translation of all the text files, quite pleased with the end result now that the deep learning software had gotten quite accurate. Kryptonian music, pretty much regardless of the genre didn’t suit her tastes at all. As a result, Kara was quite reluctant to press the play button, even with the volume turned quite low. Pictures on the other hand were received with arms wide open. Kara’s patience had come a long way as she waited for a single high-resolution  image to load. Cityscapes, fauna, flora, the sea, the mountains, or even pictures from high orbit got studied with great detail. Some locations were recognized on the spot, others were initially foreign, only to jolt some long-lost memory hours or even days later.

Videos were both the most exciting and also the most frustrating. Almost without fail the encoding turned large portions of both the audio and video into digital mush. Kara had given up keeping track of how many forums she’d visited online for help. So many posts, so many suggestions, so many codecs and hardly anything to show for it. Yet here she was, stuck behind her desk waiting for yet another progress bar to finish. The problem was the more you stared at it, the slower it went. Turn your back at it and it’d spit an error message in your face or just straight-up crash the whole system. “If this doesn’t work, I’m going to drown myself and this stupid program in a pool of booze. Come on, you can do it. Come on now, don’t be shy.”

Finally, the encoding was done. And the result was pretty much as expected; digital mush. Even if she separated the audio feed and rolled back to an older codec. Kara banged her head on the keyboard a couple of times. Maybe if she split it up into smaller pieces and allocated more processing power? It’d be worth to pause the conversion of raw data. Or maybe it was a memory issue? When Kara looked up, her chin resting flat on her desk, the screen showed a list of symbols. Fast as a viper snapping its fangs, Kara hit the spacebar to pause the video. Twenty symbols, all encased inside a diamond-like shape. They reminded Kara of Kryptonian writing, yet not quite. “I’ve seen you guys before, but where? The cape!” 

Kara snatched her crutches and moved with great speed to her bedroom. Kicking the door closed behind her with a loud bang, she fumbled through her clothes until she found her suit and cape. The golden medallions that were attached to the cape, they had engravings on them. True enough they were the same as the ones on the screen. What did they mean though? The gears in Kara’s head grinded for an answer. Running her thumb over the medallions it finally came to her; they were family insignia. One for each of the houses of Krypton, or rather those that survived within Kandor. Kara’s smile faded and her expression grew troubled while she put away the cape. Fishing out her white suit from the drawer, she held it up by the shoulders and looked at the diamond-shaped hole on its chest, “Why is it missing?”

Being careful to put the suit and cape back in the drawer before Pel returned home, Kara returned to her desk. She went over the list of family insignia again and this time around she started recalling their names, “Ak, Am, An, Da, Dar, Do, Em,  Kann , Ko,  Lor , Mer, Nu, Ran, Re, Tor, Ur, Van,  Veks ,  Zar , and Zu.”

Some further digging through the digital mush of the video showed Kryptonians wearing their family insignia as a large chest piece on their clothing. Women had for the most part sleeveless clothing, whereas the few men she could spot would sport full bodysuits and a cape. It varied from being attached on both shoulders and on one. Some had their cape all the way down to the ankles, whereas others had it only to their waist. The color was hard to make out thanks to the poor quality of the encoding. There had to be an explanation. Maybe not in this video, but in others. Logging back to the StarrWARE servers, Kara started searching through the converted data for anything related to the family. Reading Kryptonian wasn’t enough, she needed to learn to speak it as well. After all, none of the videos thus far had come with English subtitles.

* * *

Expensive shoes scraped against a barren concrete floor. A flashlight weighed in Pel’s hand. The room was large, empty, and poorly lit. Its walls covered with cold, impersonal tiles. Exposed pipes  snaked themselves in and out of the walls and floor at random. Pieces of trash and battered plastic chairs laid scattered about. To top it all off there was not a window in sight. Most would see only a lost cause, a tattered place that should have been torn down rather than forgotten. Pel was different. He saw a nearly blank canvas on which he’d paint his dreams, “This could work.”

Reginald looked up at the high ceiling with a dubious expression,  “You sure? La Mesa might not be the best spot.”

Without missing a beat Pel said, “It’s a great spot. As well as being walking distance for the young professionals in Mirror Park, this is also the only location in town where the roar of the interstate doubles as the world's biggest sub-woofer.”

Carlton nodded, “Plus the police station right across the street will keep the customers safe from riff-raff.”

“ Also a good point,” Pel chimed in. “What do you say, gentlemen? Do we have a deal?”

Reginald frowned and looked around some more. Wearing two college degrees worth of clothes, the man stood out like a sore thumb in the less than stellar locale, “I’m not so sure... what do you see in this place, Mr. Tevin?”

“Potential,” Pel held out his arms. “Reception at the top of the stairs, a bar down at the bottom of the stairs in the first room. DJ stage right up there, this here will be the dance floor and-”

“Okay, okay, you’re talking way too fast,” Reginald shook his head. “Let’s get out of this place. I'm still not fully sold Mr. Tavin. Could you show us some concepts?”

The tree of them started to climb up the stairs back to daylight, “Concepts? I don’t...”

Carlton chuckled and patted Pel on the shoulder, “You’ll have to forgive my friend. He can’t quite keep it all in his head. Give him some sketches and he’ll be won over.”

“I suppose I could scribble down something.”

The chuckles rolled over into a roaring belly laugh, “Oh you’re quite the jokester. This is Vinewood. Concept artists are a dime a dozen. Show of them the blueprints and talk them through your vision. That ought to do the trick.”

“Yeah... yeah, I'll get on it,” he said holding the door open for them.

“Marvelous Mr. Tavin. We'll see you on Friday then.”

Pel stopped dead in his tracks before the limousine, “Friday? This Friday?”

“Why yes, we’ll be out of town for the next few weeks,” Carlton mused before looking over at Reginald. “Where was it again? Hong Kong? Singapore?”

Reginald regained some color in his face now that he’d settled inside the comfort of the limousine, “Shanghai. For the last time, it is Shanghai. God, you’d lose your head if it wasn’t screwed on.”

Carlton cleared his throat at that comment, “Well, anyways. There you have it Mr. Tavin. See you on Friday.”

The limousine drove off, leaving Pel stranded in the thickness of La Mesa. Shocked into a mannequin-like state, Pel didn’t register his surroundings in the slightest. Friday, he needed to get concept sketches of the club by Friday. His hand trembled when he checked his phone for the date and time.  Assuming they’d go for a dinner meeting that left Pel with something close to fifty-five hours. That's not much to go on, but by now he was so close that he’d just have to bite the bullet and power through. As the gears in his head started grinding away, Pel circled around to the parking lot in the back to his car. Hourly rate for a concept artist was somewhere in the thirty-forty-dollar range, maybe more since this would be a priority job with overtime. It was a starting point, now all he needed was to secure the funds.

Back at the yacht Pel headed straight for the master bedroom and dived into the wardrobe. A hissed shit slipped through his teeth when he realized Karen clothes were more on the practical and comfortable end of the spectrum. Why couldn’t she be like any other rich lady? With a garage sized wardrobe filled with expensive dresses that she’d not even used once. Fast and sharp steps took him over to the bedside table where the first drawer held nothing. Or rather nothing he was interested in. Slamming the drawer shut, Pel started to pace around the bedroom. A hand ran through his hair, eyes reading some unseen thought. Then he froze, throwing a glance over at the bathroom door, “Worth a shot.”

Every drawer, every closet and every nook and cranny explored. Nothing. Not a goddamn single piece of jewelry. There was Karen’s office, which had a truck load worth of computer equipment scattered about. But selling that to a pawnshop was iffy to say the least. Not to mention that Karen seemed to keep better track of those microchips and wires than anything else in her life. Pel sank down on the bed, massaging his thighs with long, firm strokes while looking around, “But she did have some earrings, right? Just where in the world- guest room. There’s a guest room. Hell, this place has probably a dozen of them.”

Pel tried the first door he came over and oddly enough found it locked. A chunk of the tension that rested heavily on his shoulders got chopped off. With a sly smile he examined the lock. It was a simple little thing he noted, more of a formality than anything else. He patted down his own pockets, maybe he had something on him that could undo the lock. Just then he caught sight of someone at the corner of his eye and froze solid. With fumbling grace, he regained his composure and tried his best to look casual, “Hi- uh, Ted, right?”

“Uh-huh, that’s me alright,” he nudged his head at the door. “Need anything?”

“What? Ah, no just...” Pel gave out an exaggerated scoff, “curious that’s all. First door on this whole boat that I've seen locked.”

“Yeah, well can’t blame her.”

He leaned in closer, lowered his voice, “Why? What's in there?”

Ted ran a hand over his mouth and chin, checked around to make sure they were alone. Satisfied he motioned Pel to come even closer and said in a low whisper, “It’s her dildo collection. But it’s kinda redundant now that you’re on board, so it got locked away. Poor girl couldn’t just throw it away, sentimental value and all that. She, she even gave ‘em names.”

For a moment Pel just blinked with a baffled look on his face. Just as he was about to speak up, Ted flashed him the widest grin in the northern hemisphere before bursting out in a roaring laugh, “Nah, I’m just messing with ya!  Shoulda seen the look on ya face! Ah man, one for the books.”

The more Ted laughed, the redder Pel’s cheeks grew. A few hard  buddy , buddy slaps on the shoulder not only stung in the physical sense, but they also added insult to injury. Ted's laugh danced and bounced off the walls and ceiling of the hallway long after he’d disappeared from view. Pel on the other hand just  glared at the locked door with a pout before shoving his hands in his pocket and taking his leave. Stomping up the stairs to the second deck, Pel mumbled curses under his breath. On one of the shelves in the hallway stood a watch. Stylish and expensive-looking, Pel looked it over with hungry eyes before he noticed the time it was showing. The steady and unforgiving tic toc of the second hand made him advert his eyes, a shudder trickled down his spine.

“Uhm, Mr. Tavin? Do, do you have a minute?”

“Yeah… yeah, I’ve got time,” Pel’s hand retreated away from a shiny, jet black horse figure.

“Great. Great, why… uh, why don’t we take it at Ms. Starr’s office?”

Tagging along like a child who knew he was in trouble and all that waited for him at the end of the line was a solid lecturing, Pel followed Rose back to Karen’s office. The office was the same as always; it looked as if a car bomb had gone off just minutes prior. Whenever Pel tried to express some passing interest in any of the techy do-dads, it took Karen about a minute to dive off into the deep end and lose him completely. So, after a while, he stopped trying and as far as he could tell, Karen didn’t seem to mind. Behind him he heard the door close, “So Rose, what’s this about?”

“Uh, yes. It’s- it’s about the loan. You said you’d pay it back, but I can’t-”

“Ah right, you didn’t give me the account number.”

Rose frowned for a moment before she hurried past him over to Karen’s desk, “That’s strange… I’m certain I did- but, but anyway. Here it is. So… could you transfer the money?”

Pel took the post-it  note , fiddle with it as his mind raced, “I don’t have all of it now.”

“That’s- that’s okay. As long as you make a down payment,” Rose gave a shy little smile as if a funny thought crossed her mind. “Size matters not, Ms. Starr doesn’t judge you by it.”

He let out a harsh breath , “The thing is Rose… I’m in another pinch.” He could see  recognition dawned on her face so he put on his best puppy eyes, “Help me out? Please?”

“I- I’m sorry, but…” Rose gave a helpless shrug, “Ms. Starr was very clear. You have to pay back- before. I’m- I’m really sorry-”

“Not as sorry when Karen is left heartbroken because you pushed us apart.”

Rose blinked, flustered she searched for a reply, “No… that’s- she wouldn’t-”

“Wouldn’t what?” Pel pressed as he closed the gap between them like a snake slithering through the grass, tongue flickering, “Be heartbroken? You kidding right? You saw us the other day. We’re close, closer than you and she will ever be. You going to destroy that? Huh?”

“N-no, I’d never-” her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, wide eyes darted around for an exit.

He loomed over her, whatever shelter Karen’s cluttered desk offered was crumbling apart, “Oh… I get it. I see how it is. You want her to cuddle you and you alone. You’re a sick, jealous little bitch that doesn’t like when someone else gets what you had. Greedy little one, aren’t you?”

“No!” Rose’s word cut through the room like a shotgun blast. For a stunning moment, a heavy silence sunk over the room as she hugged herself, tears trickling down her cheeks. Swallowing down her sobs, she raised her head and glared at Pel, “I’m- I’m not like that. And neither is Ms. Starr. She-  she’d never blame me for you leaving. Ever. Heartbroken? M-maybe. Spiteful? If that’s what you think Mr. Tavin… then- then you don’t know her. You don’t even love her.”

Pel wore a blank, slightly surprised expression. As the dots started to connect, he gave mirthless laugh. His hand tightened into a fist; his teeth gritted and the first slap came. A full arm swing with the back on his hand landing square on Rose’s cheek, “I don’t have time for this. Give me the damn money!”

She tried to pull back and out of reach, but Pel’s hand grabbed her by the shoulder and yanked her close. One slap, then another and another. Rose’s face jerked from the left to the right with each slap, somewhere between her yelps of pain and sobbing pleas for it to stop fell on deaf ears. Coming out from a haze of rage, Pel caught a shadowy form in the corner of his eye. Stopping as if stung by a paralyzing drug, he gawked at his own clenched fist and the trails of blood that rested on the eggshell white knuckles. Looking down he saw Rose, head held low and trembling hands making a feeble defense around her face. She tried her best to make herself a small target as possible. The books and papers she’d carried with her was a scattered mess around her feet.

Grabbing her by the top of her blond hair, he yanked her face close to his. Bruised and starting to swell, Rose hands flurried around in limbo between shielding herself and trying to fend off her attacker. A thick trail of blood ran from one of her nostrils, her lower lip cracked and teeth painted with blood watered down by saliva and snot. He shushed her, his fist now a finger shaking with adrenaline just an inch away from his lips. Whimpers and sobs tried to stay afloat in a stormy sea of hyperventilation. As he collected shattered pieces of his composure, Pel said, “Look what you made me do Rose. Look at it! Now, are you going to give me the money?”

Rose adverted her eyes, thinking perhaps even looking for some distant savior that’d come in and save her at the last possible moment. None came. And so, she gave a nod, barely visible through her trembling. He plastered a grin on his face, “Atta girl. Now that wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

She forced a smile.

“We don’t want to upset Karen, now do we Rose?” A beat passed without a reply. “Do we?”

She nodded.

“Good. Now transfer that money.”


	10. Wrath

There was always this shift in Dr. Cross’ demeanor whenever he saw Lucy. A subtle disdain, yet also acutely aware that resistance would prove futile. Whether he was aware of it or not she could not tell, but it was there nonetheless. To his credit, he remained polite and professional though a tad more rigid had the conversation been with anyone but Lucy, “Agent Kuo. No lackies this time around?”

“No, I just wanted a second opinion on something,” she dropped a series of photographs on his desk.

He hesitated, a symbolic gesture of resistance. She kept her eyes on him, a cold steady gaze. A pen tossed aside with a flick of the wrist, riding the tailwind of a sigh before he snatched a photo and gave it a quick glance. It was a photocopy of a notebook. The handwriting left something to be desired, but it was readable enough for him to get the gist of it. His face serious before it faded to a frown while a puzzled haze clouded his eyes, “What’s this? Where did you get this?”

“A certain doctor is having her own little independent research. We’re keeping her under surveillance for one reason or another, but I couldn’t quite shake the feeling that this is the real reason. Question is, is there any merit to it?”

Dr. Cross scoffed and chuckled a soft laugh, “I- I’m sorry agent Kuo, but this… this is way out of my field of expertise.”

“Listen doctor, they’re using Power Girl as irrefutable proof that God is real. It’s a weird muddled mix of myth and science fiction. Angels and humans crossbreeding to make some sort of- super race.”

Leaning back in his chair, Dr. Cross smiled and nodded, “Yes. I’ve had the… pleasure of hearing something similar. Even before Power Girl arrived. Creationism or intelligent design I believe they called it. Are you by any chance having a crisis of faith, agent Kuo?”

Lucy shrugged and started pacing around in the office doctor’s office, “It’s a compelling argument in a post Power Girl world, isn’t it? The things she can do… that’s- is that evolution, just natural selection from across the galaxy or something else?”

“It’s clear that she comes from a civilization far superior to our own in terms of technology,” Dr. Cross said while he flipped through the photos. “It’s not… unreasonable to think that they might not only have dwelled into genetics but also excelled at it.”

“That’s true I suppose,” she nibbled at her thumb. Her eyes wandered around the office before settling on a mounted owl at the top of one of his bookshelves. “Can- is it possible to do what this research suggests? Splice Power Girl’s genes and then… somehow get a human hybrid that has her or at the least some of her abilities?”

Dr. Cross chuckled and spread his hands, “I’m sorry agent Kuo, but you’ve come to the wrong doctor. Best I can come up with is doing things the old fashion way but even then, we’re talking about crossbreeding two species that don’t even share the same planet. Doing it artificially gives you more control of course, but… You’d need a map of her genome for starters, which we do not have.” He rubbed his hands together and looked out the window before adding, “Or, I don’t. Blood samples taken from Power Girl have an unusually short shelf life compared to human blood, but I’m sure you’re already aware of that.”

“No. I did not,”  she rested a hand on her hip , “ Any idea why that is?”

“There’s… something that just damages it at an accelerated rate. Just what that is, some sort of bacteria or- I do not know.” He looked at her sideways, then down at the photos, “But given what she’s capable of, I can see that an attractive idea for people in the right places. Even if it’s billions of dollars and decades of research and testing away. And they still might end up with nothing to show for, despite no lack of effort from their part.”

Lucy started to collect the photos, tucking them away into an anonymous-looking envelope, “Thanks, doctor. I appreciate your thoughts on the subject. By the way, have you heard anything new about Power Girl’s recovery?”

“She appears to be on track to a full recovery as far as her leg injury goes. But whether or not she’s able to perform as usual in regards to her abilities… I can’t tell.”

* * *

When Karen received an urgent summoning to StarrWARE she’d secretly hoped to walk in on a surprise Halloween party. As luck would have it, that was not the case. Instead, she’d been locked up in a meeting with Ophelia who was worried more than usual over the company’s finances. Apparently, with the fiscal year looming on the horizon, Ophelia had gone from bad to worse. There were a lot of big red numbers for this quarter and Karen having signed off on most of them, had to stand trial and explain herself. A lot of this could have been avoided had Karen been more thorough with logging her expenses instead of filing just about everything under misc. purchases. To make matters worse, some of these expenses could be explained as they tied directly to her translation app. Others, however, usually the more exotic and expensive ones, were a harder pill to swallow.

“And this one?” Ophelia puffed some stray hair out of her face as she flicked over another page with a snap in her wrist.

“Ah… you see this one-” Karen scratched her head. Just as she suspected, another one covering hardware meant to help her interface with the alien tech left behind by her parents. “I  doooooooooon’t remember.”

Her mouth set in a hard line, “Ms. Starr… with all due respect, if you’d just-”

“I know, I know… give me a minute to think,” she sunk further down in her chair, mulling over the page. It was already late, yet the office was as busy as it would have been during the day. All the desks were manned with people working on fumes rather than a full tank. “Are we doing a Halloween party? Just to shave off some of the edge?”

“Ms. Starr? Quit stalling and focus.”

“Yes ma’am…” she turned her attention back to the page. Taking a deep breath, she said, “Experimental hardware. I wanted to see if I could get better performance out of the machine learning with this setup.”

Ophelia eyed her with sharp skepticism. The one saving grace Karen had was their different fields of expertise. Ophelia knew how to run a business, negotiate a good deal, and chase down every last dollar in the holy name of profit. Karen on the other hand knew how to code in nine different program languages and could spit out impressive algorithms like nobody else in the company. Though after several long hours, Karen’s ability to bullshit her way out of questions was starting to lose its effect. As long as Ophelia didn’t call in any of the other programmers, or stars forbid someone who actually knew about hardware for a second opinion she’d be in the green. It was a gamble that Ophelia wouldn’t dare to interrupt their work as it’d cut into their bottom line. A final  hail Mary would be to spew out as much techno-babble as possible to tier out both Ophelia and whomever she brought in from the floor. By the looks of it, neither Ophelia nor anyone else looked like they were up for a lengthy, in-depth hardware spec discussion right now.

“And why… just why did you buy it?”

“Don’t you see?” Karen managed to drag up some enthusiasm for the subject, the kind of geek out enthusiasm that people outside of the trade hated. “With better hardware and proper cooling, you’d get much better performance. Which in turn would mean that the machine would learn faster and the code would be ready faster. I believed that this chip-set-”

“Fine, fine,” Ophelia raised her hands in defeat before rubbing her temples. “Was it worth it? Did you get the… whatever, out of it? Did it deliver, Ms. Starr?”

For a moment Karen just sat there in her chair, perfectly still like a kid in elementary school trying to think of why she was covered in mud from head to toe. “Well… I mean- if you look at the specs… the theory is sound. It’s just that- uh, I haven’t assembled it yet…?”

She let out a defeated sigh and tapped something into her laptop, “Another dud then…”

“Potential dud,” Karen added. “We don’t know yet.”

“It’s a dud until proven otherwise,” Ophelia’s patience was so thin it was practically transparent at this point and Karen didn’t really care for what she saw on the other side. “This one then?”

“Uh… money from- huh?” she straightened up in her chair, bringing the page under the lamp so she could see better. “I don’t get it. Rose took money from the company and put it on my personal account. Why would she-”

There was a knock on the glass door and Nico popped his head in, “Sorry, I’m leaving for the day- or night. What time is it?” he checked his watch.

“Alright, nighty, nighty Nico. Drive safe,” Karen gave a halfhearted goodbye wave while still focused on the account transcript.

“Yeah, uh before I leave, Ms. Starr?” Karen turned around in her chair, one arm dangling like a deflated balloon over the back. “Remember that guy that’s sneaking around on our network?”

“ Uuuuuh …  yeeeaah ? Yeah, got it. How does it look like? Any news?”

Nico zipped up his jacket and shrugged, “Sorry to say, but he’s a persistent fellow. He’s doubling his efforts and… there’s only so much I can do with what we have.”

“What’s this about? Anything I should know?” Ophelia came around the meeting room table, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Some prick is snooping around our serves, trying to wiggle himself inside. Nico has kept an eye on him.”

Ophelia’s  expression closed up , “Anything serious?”

Karen looked back at Nico who just vaguely gestured that it could go either way, “Not at the moment, but… without upgrading our systems, we could get breached. The weakest link in the chain is the one that goes from here out to Ms. Starr’s yacht.”

“Why’s that?”

“Wireless transfer. Easier to get into,” Karen said. When Ophelia shot her a critical look she added, “Look, we’re taking our precautions. Don’t get all bent out of shape.”

“And why are we transferring data to your yacht?”

Karen rolled her eyes and tried as best she could to swallow her sarcasm, “Because someone agreed to a massive deal with an insane deadline and ever-expanding scope. I chip in as best I can, so I work remotely.”

Ophelia sniffed, seemingly unphased by the verbal jabs sent her way, “What can we do about it?”

“Upgrade, but as Ms. Starr pointed out when we spoke about this last time, there isn’t any money for it.”

“I wonder whose fault that is…”

Clapping her hands, Karen rose from her chair, “Look, there’s plenty of blame to pass around for everyone. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m done. At least for today. Ophelia, I’ll look into this with Rose and get back to you. We can pick up the thread tomorrow, right? There’s still time?”

“Yes.”

“Fantastic. Nic, drive safe, get some rest, and keep an eye on our little friend. As soon as the money comes in, we’ll get you those updates. Promise. Start window shopping tomorrow, assess, and give us some prices. Any questions?”

Nico shook his head and Ophelia actually looked relieved. She put on a tough front, but it was obvious that she too was running on fumes and raw will power. Karen wasn’t doing too hot herself. Stuck in a weird limbo of fatigue and itching to get a workout, she figured first thing would be a decent meal. And possibly a nice quick shower. Regardless, she was done at the office and packed together her things. Passing through the office landscape she handed out goodbyes and take care of the ones left behind their desks. Alone in the elevator, Karen reached inside of herself and focused. Her mouth curved into a smile as her feet lost touch with the floor and she drifted around like a balloon until her head softly bobbed against the ceiling, “Would you look at that? Guess I’m back in business.”

* * *

Mango chunks, vanilla yogurt, ice, and honey slushed around in Karen’s shaker with a dull, almost robotic motion of her arms. It was late or maybe  early, she hadn’t bothered to check the alarm clock by her bed. Just down the smoothie, hit the showers, and crawl to bed. Speaking of which, that bed looked awfully inviting even if Pel wasn’t present. Ted mentioned something about him having being called in for an emergency shift because someone else got sick. Or was that from earlier this week? Right now, it didn’t matter as much as trying to actually drink the smoothie without spilling half the content over the bedroom carpet. Halfway through the drink, Karen paused, “Right… Rose.”

Drying of some of her sweat from her brow with a towel that hung around her neck, Karen headed for the crew’s quarters. It wasn’t until after she’d knocked on Rose’s door that she realized that this might not be the best time. Nevertheless, there was a reply from behind the door after a brief pause, “Y-yes?”

“Ah, sorry Rose… it’s late and- look, we need to go over some expenses tomorrow. I just wanted you to know before I forget.”

A pause followed, “C-could it wait?”

“Until tomorrow? Yeah, sure. I’m a sleazy breeze away from falling over myself, so no worries,” Karen held back a burp. “But, uh… Ophelia found something and was nagging about every darn penny because of the fiscal year or whatever.”

“Right. Uh, well then. We’ll talk tomorrow then Ms. Starr?”

“Yeah, tomorrow. Nighty,  ni -” Karen paused and frowned at the door. “You okay in  there Rose? You sound a bit off.”

“A-actually…” a beat passed. Karen strained her ears and leaned closer to the door. Rose’s sudden coughing caught her by such surprise that she almost dropped her shaker. Her hands snapped after it like a pair of hungry vipers until she finally secured it. “I think I’ve caught a cold. My throat is a little sore.”

“Oh, okay. Just- take it easy. I was thinking of sleeping in myself, so… no rush. Drink plenty of water, okay? Nighty, night.”

Hours later Karen searched for refuge from the noon sun underneath her pillow. With the sun out of her face, it quickly became apparent that there was no way she’d fall back into sleeps soft embrace in her current position. Growling like an angry tiger, quilt and pillows got rearranged with hasty impatience. As the dust settled and quilt snuggled itself down to rest, a new challenger arrived. One of Karen’s contact lenses had slipped out of place and was scraping against her eyeball. Groaning and muttering curses behind gritted teeth, the quilt got kicked across the room and pillows tossed aside as Karen stomped into the bathroom to set things straight. Some fiddling around and eye drops later she’d shown that contact lens who was the boss around these parts. Unfortunately, she was also so worked up that slipping back to sleep was out of the question.

Stuffing herself inside a washed-out t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants that only had three unidentified stains on one leg, Karen shuffled on bare feet for some food. Yawning and stretching as she went, she handed out good mornings left and right. Kimiyo’s observation that it was in fact past noon and not morning was countered with an inaudible grumble. A small, blonde woman wearing a baseball cap walked past her mumbling a greeting before hurrying along. Still not fully awake it took a moment before Karen connected the dots, “Ah, Rose. Got a minute?”

“I- can it wait? I really need to go Ms. Starr.”

“Just a second, we talked about going over some expenses last night, right? Or was that a dream?”

“We- we did,” Rose fidgeted around on the spot.

Karen nodded, satisfied with the confirmation. Just as they were about to part ways, Karen stopped again, “Oh, and how’s your cold?”

Rose pulled the cap further down, holding it in place, “F-fine. A little sore throat, but I- I’ll manage.”

“You don’t have a fever, do you?” Karen walked over, reaching out a hand to check her temperature. “What’s with the getup anyway? Is there some holiday thing going on that I don’t know about?”

She pulled back and slapped Karen’s hand away. That hit Karen like a glass of cold water straight in the face. She sized Rose up, realizing that she was shaking like a leaf. Muttering under her breath, Karen heard the same few words over and over in rapid succession; “Please don’t notice, please don’t notice, please don’t notice.”

Karen hesitated as if approaching something extremely delicate and precious, “Rose… honey? What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing. I-I just… don’t want you to get sick,” Rose blurted out, her voice cracked on the brink of shattering completely. “That’s all. Really. C-can I go now? Please?”

“I’m fine Rose. In fact,” she threw a quick glance over her shoulder, “I managed to fly last night. So, come here, let me have a look.”

Still shaking, Rose just stood there in a silent defeat as Karen peeled back the cap on her head. At a passing glance, it was nothing new under the sun, just Rose’s scared and worried face working hard to keep the tears back. The problem was this was a face Karen haven’t seen in a long time. Her sobs and sniffles came out hand in hand with an apologetic tone as her hands held on even harder to her faithful notebook. She took in the sight of Rose's face; something was off or different. Lipstick had been applied with mediocre results as well as an unnatural amount of foundation. It had all the hallmarks of someone not used to working make-up, but also a rushed job in covering something up. A line appeared between her brows, “Rose… talk to me. What’s this?”

Their eyes met, “Ms. Starr… I-I’m so, so, sorry. I didn’t mean to- I swear-”

Suddenly Karen’s face went from a puzzled and concerned look to one of pure rage, “PEL!”

Something feeble and weak tugged at her t-shirt, but it barely registered. Her stride remained firm and unchallenged in its strength. A voice sang out heartbroken pleas and prayers from far behind her, but Karen didn’t listen. Practically snarling she picked up speed into a light jog as her eyes scanned room after room as she passed them. Climbing the stairs to the second deck three steps at the time, Karen found Pel making merry with Kimiyo by the bar. Greeting her with a toast, “Good morning sleepyhead.”

To his credit, it didn’t take Pel many seconds to notice something was terribly wrong. He’d already raised his hands and seemed to have some phrase or another at the ready to defuse the situation as Karen bridged the gap. His sheepish little smile that twitched with doubt only added fuel to the fire. Only half of the first word Pel had ready got out before Karen locked on to the collar of his shirt and yanked him around like a ragdoll. Karen’s rage flared up like a furnace gone wild, snarling and growling while tears blurred her vision. Around her she heard busy feet stomping around, voices shouting and hands grabbing her wrists. In the whirlwind of chaos, only snippets slipped through to the innermost sanctum. Commands to hold her, stop her. Grown men cursing, shouting that they were trying but someone was as strong as an ox. From the far back, someone was crying at the top of their tiny little lungs for everyone to stop. Please, just stop.

Knives and kitchenware from the bar stabbed into Karen’s fists, yanked at an angle in some far-flung hope to pry her fingers open. Stopping her thrashing around, Karen stood solid as a mountain, unphased at the people that struggled to make her stop. Her face contorted with a mix of rage and sadness, she huffed and puffed like a tired beast. With teeth clenched firm enough to bite through steel, she said, “How? How could you?”

“Could  wha -?”

Wrath spilled out from the depths of Karen’s throat before she stampeded outside, dragging whoever was clinging to her along for the ride. Bumping into the rails of the yacht, one of her arms got yanked free and pulled back. A pair of solid arms locked around it, pulling down with the full weight of a grown man. With stone-cold indifference, Karen turned away from Pel and looked down  at her arm. Ted, still wearing his apron hugged her arm as if his life depended on it. If he could, he’d probably also wrap his legs around it too for extra measure. Karen’s eyes glowed with a lethal orange hue, pieces of thick transparent liquid dripped down as if melted off, “Let. Go.”

Ted, though sweating like a waterfall and color drained from his face, steeled himself with an even firmer grip on her arm and shook his head, “Don’t do it, Kara. He’s not worth it.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. The orange glow faded, leaving behind a pair of vibrant blue eyes, “Fine then.”

Even with Ted hanging on as dead weight, Karen latched on to Pel’s belt and hoisted him high over her head before throwing him overboard. Ted would have followed suit had not Karen caught him as he slipped off her arm. As light as an empty box of cardboard, Karen raised Ted back on deck. Down below Pel spluttered and splashed around while screaming curses and questions at the yacht. With several long, deep breaths Karen managed to bring her rage down to a contained simmer. Everyone around her eased up a little yet remained alert and kept exchanging worried looks. Over the rolling sea, Karen heard Rose cry from inside the bar all while keeping a fixed glare at Pel. Stalking him like a great cat, Karen climbed on the outside of the deck. Someone tried to follow but didn’t dare to brave the slippery exterior.

She continued tracking him, only taking her eyes off him for a brief glance at the bridge. Captain Sato was already on the phone, calm if not a little rattled. A shitstorm was brewing, that much was certain. Walking with confidence as if the last thing that’d ever happen on this earth was her slipping off and falling into the ocean below, Karen stalked Pel’s swimming for the length of the yacht. All the way from the third deck down to sea level at the aft. The trip had taken its toll on Pel as he was heaving for air and spluttered out several thanks to God, Jesus, and anyone else who’d graced him with a ladder he could hold on to. Karen on the other hand, just planted herself square in front of him. Arms crossed, legs wide and a glare that could sink ships she blocked him from climbing on board.

“Karen,” he spat out some seawater, “c’mon, what- what’s wrong? What the hell was that all about?”

“Get off my boat.”

He blinked at her, shielding the sun from his eyes with one hand, “Yeah okay. Very funny.” He climbed the first step on the ladder, but Karen put a foot square on his chest and shoved him back down again.

“Get. Off. My. Boat.”

“Ma’am,” Karen looked over her shoulder and saw Captain Sato rushing down the stairs. “We’ll take it from here. Get back inside and see to Rose. Please.”

“No,” Karen turned back to Pel, nothing but contempt could be seen in her eyes. “Get back inside Captain. Collect all of Mr. Shit-stain’s belongings and dump them at the Tequi-la-la parking lot.”

“Ma’am-”

“Are you kidding me?! You can’t do that Karen! This is bullshit!” Pel slapped the water in protest.

“Would you look at that? I didn’t know vermin could talk.”

That left Pel at such a loss for words that he looked to Captain Sato for an assist. Sato on the other hand just tapped the brim of her hat and took her leave. Licking his lips and trying his best to collect his thoughts, Pel tried again, “Karen- if- if I fucked up, I’m sorry. Okay? But- but we can work it out, right? Right?”

“I want you off my boat, or things are going to get ugly. Are you picking up what I’m putting down?”

“Ugly? Ugly?! What the hell do you call trashing me around and throwing me into the fuckin’ ocean?!”

She inhaled deeply and thought for a moment. Whether it was to think of a clever comeback or to chain down her emotions, only Karen knew. When she was ready, she said, “It’ll be the Mona Fucking Lisa compared to what’s waiting for you if you push your luck. Get off my boat!”

Shrinking back Pel said, “H-how? You expect me to just… swim?”

“Look at the vermin with a brain. A functional one too. What a day, what a day.”

He scoffed so hard it splashed some water around, “You’re joking, right?”

“Do I look like I’m joking… Pel?! Do you want to stick around and press your nonexciting luck further… Pel?! Or do you want to start getting the fuck away from my boat?!”

Pel gave a meek nod and kicked off from the yacht before starting the trip back to the shore. Karen remained on the yacht, vigilant and never taking her eyes off him as he rolled along with the waves. Coming up to her side was Captain Sato. The two women stood there for a minute until Pel’s struggle was a fading dot in a sea of blue, “I don’t think he’s going to make it ma’am.”


	11. Parasite

Swimming had never really been a problem for Pel. He’d picked it up at an early age and he was in reasonable enough shape to hold his own, even in the open sea. The current predicament, however, was several miles outside of his comfort zone. Ribs were still sore and burned from the fall. Just how high was that? Ten, fifteen feet? That might be a new personal best, not that it had been on his to-do list for today. Clothes was another can of worms that slithered its way around his arms and legs. Swimming shorts? No problem. Jeans, a t-shirt, a hoodie along with shoes and socks? Not even in the same league. To top it all off, the ocean itself wasn’t exactly summer warm. He hadn’t noticed when he was talking to Karen, but his teeth were definitely rattling now.

Limbs grew heavier, the clothes soggier and for every arm stroke, it was as if he slipped back three. Waves rolled by and picked him and dropped him off at their leisure, adding to his frustration. Like a half-gutted fish, Pel’s strength bled out into the ocean, unable to satiate its bottomless hunger. His strokes faded down to halfhearted slaps on the surface, anything south of his knees was just a heavy blob of mass slowing him down further. After a while, he stopped moving forward, at the mercy of the ocean just trying to stay afloat. Swallowing his pride along with a mouthful of seawater, he gurgled out a help. An arm stretched up, flailing about hoping to catch the eye of someone at the shore. Another wave came, pushing him down. Kicking up with both legs like a dolphin and thrashing around with his arms, Pel cut through to the surface, heaving for air before sinking back down again.

He’d almost given up, down there in the dark blues of the ocean. Lungs burned, limbs wouldn’t move because the goddamn hoodie got in the way and yet the sun was just there. A tiny foot above him, wobbling and shining down. With his last strength, Pel lunged upwards and came up short. The best he could muster was to get his hand above the surface. Sinking back down, his chest burst and ached. Breathe, let me breathe Goddamnit! The second he gaped up something grabbed his wrist. It hurt like hell as if some hydraulic press got hold of him. Through a torrent of bubbles, Pel not only breached the surface, but he was also free from the suffocating hold of the sea itself. Coughing, spitting and snorting for lifegiving air, the joints in his arm got strained under carrying his weight. Dangling like a rock on a string, Pel found himself floating back to shore.

Tossed aside like a soaked napkin, Pel tumbled around on the sand. Gaging on the salty seawater and spitting out grains of sand, he spun to his left, then to his right but saw no one. A pair of eyes drilled into his back, making him tense up. Peering back up at the skies he saw her, a woman of short hair, wearing a tight white suit with blue boots and a short red cape dancing in the breeze. With the sun behind her head, it almost looked like a halo and although he couldn’t see her face, it was still obvious she wasn’t happy. Something the first words that came out of her mouth confirmed, “What the heck were you doing out there, sir?”

“I was just-”

“Going for a swim? Dressed like that?” the woman shook her head. “Talk about having one foot in the grave and another on a banana peel.”

“No, I- I got thrown overboard. From that boat over there,” Pel pointed at Karen’s yacht.

The woman followed Pel’s finger, “Well, well, well. Would you look at that? I’m going over to give them a piece of my mind. Anyway, I’m glad you’re okay sir. Now go home before you catch a cold.”

Before Pel could utter a word of thanks or even ask if she’d be so kind as to give him a lift, the woman was gone. It was hard to see in the sunlight and from this distance, but as far as Pel could tell his  savior seemed to be talking with some of the crew. He chuckled to himself, “Serves you right Karen. Serves you right…”

* * *

It was the same door as always. Identical to just about any other door on the yacht. Yet when Karen stood before the door to Rose’s quarters, it was a barrier of impossible proportions. Whether it was taller than the galaxy with a surface that could not be climbed or a canyon deeper than the universe didn’t really matter. For all her powers and abilities, Karen could not bridge this gap. She raised her hand, fingers rolling with hesitation. More than once she loaded her wrist, ready to knock only for it to wither away. Beyond the door, inside the depths of Rose’s quarter sobs and whimpers danced around in a slow ballet. Her fingers found the courage to touch the door, pet it as if trying to soothe the aching pain inside the quarter. Or perhaps it was more for Karen’s own sake. Eyes started to well up with tears, the first sniff came by prophesizing things to come. A ball of emotion at the depths of her throat clogged up any and all words. A quivering breath, nerves simmered down before she said, “Rose…? Look, Rose I-”

The whimpering stopped with a sharp and sudden breath. Straining her ears, Karen heard the sound of cloth shuffling around, clicking off a light switch and then nothing. A pained smiled, a tear swiped away and an honest effort to keep her voice from shattering, Karen tried again, “Rose… I’m sorry. I don’t- what to do? Can- can I come in? Rose, would that be okay?”

More shuffling around, frantic this time around. minor things getting knocked over, tumbling and rolling on the floor. Tense, terrified breathing. Stepping back as if she’d just placed the last set of cards on a massive house of cards, Karen swallowed, “Shh, shh, it’s okay Rose. I won’t come in if you don’t want me to. It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Silence. Bone-chilling silence. Her hands curled into fists; eyes glared at the door as if it was the vilest enemy she’d ever faced. A deep breath. No smell of blood. A sigh of relief. One step, two steps, palm on the door and ears strained. Just breathing, shaken from crying too hard for too long, but breathing nonetheless. Settling for a minor victory, Karen walked away. Coming up the stairs to the main deck she met Ted. In his hands, he held the baseball cap that Rose had worn earlier. Noticing Karen, he tensed up. A façade got hastily built. He was okay, mostly. Except for his eyes, they were not okay. Offering the cap to Karen he said, “How is she?”

“Alive, I guess,” she squinted in the sunlight, the cap rolling around in her hands. “You?”

He scoffed and smiled, “Ya know me, I’m good.”

Karen nodded, though anyone with half an eye could tell she wasn’t buying it, “Keep a close eye on her, will you? Take shifts, turns, whatever. Around the clock. And call Dr. Friedlander. He’ll know what to do next.”

“Ya got it, Ms. Starr.”

“Oh, and Ted?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry. I was out of line.”

* * *

“Kara?” the hairs on the back of Lucy’s neck stood up despite the calmness of her voice. “Mind telling me what happened?”

She just sat there in the middle of the narrow hallway, knees pulled up to her chin, and arms wrapped around. Her clear, vibrant blue eyes were tired, yet alert as they reluctantly let the door in front of her out of their careful sight and landed on Lucy. Teeth found the inside of Lucy’s lip and pinched down, her heart rate picking up momentum like a stampede coming over the horizon. Her throat swelled and swallowing became borderline impossible. All this from a glance which held the still glowing embers of yesterday’s wrath. A scoff and a smile brought the searing heat down, though it still licked the surface of Lucy’s skin, “Look what the cat dragged in.”

“Yes well, you did scare the others away who tried to confirm the latest Power Girl sighting,” Lucy exhaled slowly. This was worse than being locked in a hungry tiger’s cage. “Listen, I just want to hear it from your end what happened. Can we talk?”

“I’ll take over for you ma’am,” Captain Sato offered.

Kara nodded and rose to her full height and Lucy could tell immediately; the power was back. The way she stood, the way she carried herself simmered with confidence and raw strength that was rarely seen in humans. It was a bit nostalgic, reminding Lucy of when they first met. Back then she’d dismissed it as just a primitive animal gesture, puffing of the chest, fluttering of feathers, or whatever they did to make themselves bigger and tougher than they really were. All in the name of avoiding a fight. Now though? It was hard to blame the other FBI agents for running back to the office, empty-handed, and the tail between their legs. Lucy could practically hear the mental chains and shackles creaking and groaning as they worked themselves to the bone to keep Kara bound and tied.

Lucy half expected to see Kara walk with a slight limp to her gait. And in all honesty that would probably have been better. Instead, as they made their way to the bow, Kara floated just an inch or two over the floor even when they came outside. A rock heavy gut feeling weighed heavily on Lucy. The best she could do in an effort to keep her composure was to hide her eyes behind a pair of sunglasses. Hopefully, she’d be able to maintain her cool for the duration of their little talk. Hopefully. 

“Spotted Pel by the bar shoved him outside and threw him over the rails,” Kara’s voice was flat and monotone, like a recording replaying events.

Lucy looked over the rails and down into the ocean below. The sunny weather made it look almost inviting, “Did anyone try to stop you?”

“Ted, the chef. He-” Kara scratched her head and frowned while she went through the motions again, pausing and rewinding to correct herself a few times, “he grabbed my arm and- not sure what he was trying, but he almost ended in the water too.”

“Almost?”

“I hauled him back on board before I,” she leaned far enough over the rails that a human would have fallen and pointed down towards the stern of the boat, “went after Pel who was swimming along the side to get back on board.”

“Uh-huh... and you denied him entry, is that right?”

Kara remained off-balance, the sea breeze running its invisible fingers through her blonde hair, “Looks like you’re doubting the word of the good captain, agent Kuo.”

“Don’t give me that, you know how this works. I just want to hear it from you.”

A faint smile crossed her lips, “Yeah. I guess... we bickered by the stern a bit before I sent him swimming.”

“You walked along the side of the yacht. You didn’t fly? What were you wearing?”

“Don’t remember, something bland and boring, I guess. But I didn’t fly. I just... cheated while stalking him. Does it matter?”

Lucy caught herself and swallowed the first string of words that formed at the back of her tongue. Normally she’d give Kara a solid scolding, but these were not normal circumstances. A single spark could set the whole damn boat flying on a ball of fire. The wind clawed through her with chilled fingernails, sending a shudder through her body. Kara on the other hand remained unaffected, lost in a daze she didn’t even seem to register as her own hair fluttered and touched her face. Lucy cracked her neck slightly, “Listen to me Kara, you could have risked everything. Your whole life had people seen you flying around. I guess what I'm trying to say is, you have to be careful.”

“He hit Rose.”

“Abuse isn’t pretty and you have every right to be angry at him for what he did.”

Kara looked at her, a piercing gaze, “But?”

“But the man could have drowned Kara. His near-death experience was probably the only reason why he didn’t connect the dots that you and Power Girl are one and the same. And if he connects the dots two, three months down the road, I hope you have a plan for what to do next. Because I’d love to hear it.”

She scoffed, “He didn’t die. Because I saved him.”

“Only after-” Lucy started just as Kara floated back inside. She swore under her breath and followed, “Only after you were coaxed into it by the crew members. Or was that another thing the good captain added for her own glory?”

The way Kara just stopped; the near-perfect stillness of her solid frame made Lucy’s blood run cold. Frozen to the point where even her teeth refused to clatter with fear, Lucy held her breath awaiting Kara’s judgment. A beat passed and then, nothing. She just floated down the hallway. Unaffected by the weather outside, Kara looked like an eerie ghost the way she drifted on some unseen current. Through the narrow and winding corridors of the lower deck where the crew quarter where Kara retraced her trip back to Rose’s cabin where she continued her silent haunt. Captain Sato acknowledged their return with a subtle nod and took her leave. 

“You almost killed a man Kara,” Lucy said in a low whisper. “You think Rose would be okay with that?”

“Don’t-!” a single finger raised, like a lone guardsman between Lucy and Kara’s face, distorted into a hideous snarl. She sighed, her warm breath brushed over Lucy’s face and her anger slithered back through the cracks in her composure.  The corner of her mouth quirked up, “Look, we can work something out. Things will be alright. I never thought I'd say this, but I kind of miss your nagging. Just a bit.”

“Listen, about that.”

“Oh, what now? You're going away?” Kara’s initially annoyed expression shifted to a baffled one when Lucy nodded. “Wait, what? Where? Why? For how long? It's not maternity leave, is it?”

“No. Of all the freakin’...” she let out a heavy sigh and took a moment to regroup her explanation. “While you were out of... commission, I was given a new assignment, remember?”

Kara shrugged, “So? Quit it or hand it over to some other moron.”

“Listen... The world doesn’t revolve around you, Kara. You know that, right?”

“Oh great. Just great, I get a new nanny,” Kara’s arms rose with frustration, only to drop dead and slap against her thighs. “Can I at the very least get a handsome stud this time around? I pay a lot in taxes; I think I’ve earned it by now.”

“Listen, I don’t know to who or what resources they’ll assign to you. Maybe none at all. You'll finally get that freedom and independence that you’ve always wanted. To an extent at least.”

“Oh, now they’re giving me free rein with little to no oversight? Lucy, I just threw a man overboard and-” Kara abruptly swallowed her own words as she stole a sideways glance at the door. A beat came and went before the tension in her shoulders eased up, “Look, all I'm trying to say is that my latest actions don’t make me look like the  calmest and collected entity on the planet. So, I struggle to see the logic here. Are they setting me up to fail on purpose?”

“Listen, they still expect you to report for duty and do your thing. Just... take it easy in the beginning, alright?”

“What if I don’t want to? I report that I consider myself unfit for duty?”

Lucy gave it a moment of thought before she said, “I think you’d end up in a bunker somewhere if you play that card. The original deal still stands, even me stepping back was part of the deal, remember? It just happened sooner than expected.”

“Stars above, the world is going off the hinges. Sometimes I wish someone could just hit the reboot button so we could all start fresh,” Kara scratched the back of her head. “Alright, alright. I'll make you proud. I'm just curious though, what kind of assignment did you get?”

“I can’t say, it’s an undercover operation.”

“Need any help?”

“Listen, I appreciate the offer, I really do Kara,” Lucy patted her shoulder, “but take it easy. Baby steps, yeah?”

Kara leaned against the wall and slid downwards, pulling her legs close into a hug, “If you say so agent Kuo. Guess I'll see you when I see you.”

* * *

Kala’s pen danced over her notebook, leaving behind a trail of jagged handwriting. Every word she put down was a reminder of her condition. A sneeze pulled her up from her notes and back to reality. Gale was a good kid, doing his assignment despite having just leaped out of the common cold’s arms. Curious and hardworking, he didn’t shy away from asking questions or tell Kala if he didn’t understand. Perhaps best of all, he didn’t grow discouraged or frustrated when he didn’t understand. Instead, Gale just got to work as if fiddling with the puzzle was a reward in and of itself. He'd be a great student if given the right opportunities. Sadly, his parents only tolerated science as  long as it aligned with the scripture. They'd rather not risk their only child’s salvation on devil tales like the theory of evolution. 

“Are you finished?” Kala staggered out of her seat and limped over to his desk.

He frowned at the paper and handed it over to her, “Think I did  a’ight .”

She looked it over once and shifted the color on her pen. It was a thicker pen, holding green, red, black, and blue in one. Not really a quality product, but it was handy and cheaper than to buy separate pens. Also, the kids loved it. Circles and comments in red ink got dotted around on the page. Jagged and uneven written letters stood in contrast to the smooth, confident numbers Gale had put down. Kala drew a breath and held it, whether it was to reign in her own writing or her growing frustration was hard to tell. Finishing off the last comment she said, “Quite good Gale, quite good. You still have some mistakes when multiplying and dividing fractions.”

“Miss?”

“Hmm? What is it, Gale?

“What you  workin ’ on when I do my assignment?”

Kala paused for a moment. A faint smile, slightly forced crossed her lips, “My own assignment for a very important project.”

“What’s it about?”

“I’m not sure how to explain it to you, to be honest,” she leaned against his desk for support. Picking up Gale’s assignment paper again she said, “I’m trying to fix sick people by taking a fraction of one thing and putting it into another. You see, the sick people are sick because they lack something. Honestly, it’s more complicated than that, but the basic idea is the same.”

Gale pondered this for a small minute before he said, “Can I help?”

She smiled at him and ruffled his dark, chocolate brown hair, “Appreciate it, but it’s a little too soon for you.”

A few hours later Kala headed home. Her little late afternoon routine went through the usual hoops; some grocery shopping at the supermarket, exchanging pleasantries with the flock, and assure them that she’d be present at the next meeting. It wasn’t until after she came out of the supermarket that the routine took a hike and left her alone with unusual circumstances. Driving down the main street was a truck with an expensive sailboat in tow. And the man behind the wheel? Joseph Bertrand the Third. Members of his flock gathered around, Kala expecting them to be either outraged or offended by such a grotesque display of double standards. How could a humble servant of God be bothered with such lavish, material wealth? As snippets of the chatter caught her ears it became apparent that they did shower Joseph with something, but instead of criticism, it was praise.

“The Lord has blessed you, Joseph, as I knew He would,” one lady said with her hands clutched in prayer.

“Looks ‘bout right,” a man chimed in, adjusting his worn and dirt cap to better see the shiny new boat. “You’re a good man. God wants good men like you to prosper.”

“Thank you, Sam, Laura,” Joseph hung out of the car window with a grin wide enough to go around the globe three times over. “It’s what I tell you, plant the seed, put your faith in God, and watch that  seed grow. Trust in God. God takes care of His flock. Now I pray, I pray every night that you good folks will get your due.”

Kala just shook her head and limped back to her house, crutch in hand. Even outside her own home normality was absent. Some of her neighbors waited for her there and they didn’t look too happy. She glanced over her shoulder, Joseph and his little flock were still making merry just up the street. Inhaling and exhaling, Kala secured a better hold on her grocery bag and faced her neighbors alone, “Good afternoon. Can I help you with anything?”

One of the neighbors, Julie stepped up to the challenge, “Ms. Kapur, we need to talk.”

“Okay, just make it quick.

Julie crossed her arms, “We don’t want you to home school the kids.”

“All I'm teaching them is basic math and English and I don’t home school your children, so I honestly don’t see the problem,” Kala replied, still hugging her grocery bag. She noticed that Julie’s gaze shifted from her to something behind her. Following her eyes over her shoulder, Kala saw Joseph, now out of his truck and in full swing chatting up the small crowd. She sighed and said, “Religion isn’t... I'm not brainwashing the children.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Julie retorted. There was this sharp snap to her words. She added, “You go on and on about how God is some sort of green Martian that came down and- and don’t get me started on how you insist that the book of Enoch proves you right.”

“But there is scientific proof of something strange that happened to our ancestors. We have found evidence in the fossil record marking a sudden acceleration in the human brain size and structure at two specific points, one around one point eight million years ago, and a second close to eight hundred thousand years ago.”

Julie shook her head, like a parent disappointed in her child, “There you go again. We will not be swayed. The Bible warned us of false prophets. Just stop teaching the kids.”

“Why? They’re not your children.”

She stepped forward and jabbed a finger on Kala’s chest with each word to make her point that much clearer, “Because the kids play together. And when they do, they talk. And then they come home with all sorts of wild ideas and questions.”

“Get your hand off me,” Kala shooed her away with her crutch. “I honestly don’t see the problem. Keep your children away or just sit down and talk with them. Answering questions and explaining how the world works is your job as a parent.”

“The kids look up to you because you’re their teacher, and- and your credentials,” Julie said before she and her lackeys left in a huff.

A few hours later, Joseph called in an emergency meeting. The whole flock had to attend. Kala was puzzled over this sudden and unexpected summon, “What’s going on? Has this happened before?”

Vandal, the man who’d just minutes earlier hammered hard enough on her front door to tear it off its hinges, shot her an uneasy glance, “No. Never. Could you hurry it up? I don’t want to keep Joseph waiting.”

“I’m walking as fast as I can.”

The mood inside the Feed Store was thick and intense. Seats had not been arranged, nor was the make-shift stage set in place. Members of the flock really had shown up at the drop of a hat. Among them, Kala saw someone wearing nothing but a bath towel, fresh from the shower. Others wore aprons with a pair of cooking mittens under their arm. A chill went down her spine when she saw Joseph. The flock parted way for him, like the sea parting for Moses. On his flanks were some of the bigger men in the flock, openly carrying guns. Their faces twisted into a constant snarl and deadly glare. Joseph was hurt, gotten a pretty good beating by the looks of it. Bruised and bloodied, yet he wore his injuries like badges of honor.

“My family,” he started, hissing and flinching in pain as he stepped up on top of a crate. His hand rested on the shoulder of one of his guards for support. “It appears we’re no longer welcome in these here parts. I’m not a man of violence and… as you can see, I did in fact turn the other cheek.”

An uneasy chuckle rustled through the flock. Joseph dabbed his cracked lip, fresh blood on his fingertips. Kala found herself holding her breath anticipating his next words. By the looks of it, she was far from alone. People were angry, horrified, or just plain scared. The bedrock of their comfortable lives had come under attack. Somewhere in the flock, a child cried, piercing the silence. Joseph struck a pose, like a general from the civil war days, and pointed towards the west, “We leave. We leave at the crack of dawn. God has blessed me and entrusted you, good folks, to me. And I swear on my immortal soul, I’ll keep you safe. I own some land to the west, no one will bother us there.”

The flock went to work, returning to their homes and packing up their belongings. Through the initial hustle, Kala hesitated. She just stood there, clamping down on her crutch as hard as her hand allowed. There were farmers among their ranks, so they could live off the land if needed. No shortage of people with decent carpentry skills either, so housing shouldn’t be a problem. Though it’d take time. It wasn’t until a tall shadow got cast down on her that she snapped out of it. One of Joseph’s guards, tall and wide as a barn door and built like a bull to boot. He didn’t say much, just nudged his head towards Joseph who’d taken a seat. Kala swallowed and limped over. Up close it became clear that Joseph was in quite a bad shape. Her hand reached out on its own and he took it, “Kala my dear. You’ll come with us, won’t you?”

“Joseph, you’re hurt. You should see a doctor.”

He shook his head, a pained smile on his cracked lips, “I’m afraid that be mighty awkward. The doc is in on it.”

The color drained from Kala’s face and before she could gather her thoughts, Joseph said, “The flock needs you, Kala. I need you. You’re a doctor, you can fix me, right? Right?”

His grip on her hand tightened. She looked around for support or perhaps for a way out, but all she saw where the tall and imposing guards that flanked her. The flock had all but thinned out, even being so kind to close the door behind them. Her mouth agape, words wouldn’t come out. A sharp inhale helped a little to reset her scrambling brain and she said, “I’m not that kind of a doctor Joseph. Honestly… there’s only so much I can do and-”

“It’s okay, it’s okay… do what you can, do the best you can. That’s all that I ask.”

Kala found her eyes growing wet, blinking only shoved the tears forward. Joseph eased his hold on her hand, cupping her face in his hand instead. His eyes were kind, yet pleading as they met hers. She swallowed and through clenched teeth asked, “Why? Why attack you? Why now?”

“There’s always been… disagreements in this town. Never thought much of it, but… I see now the folly of my ways. I believe God sent you here to inform us of our role in His plan. And like a grand, divine game of chess, the Devil made His counter move. We’re the pawns, the towers, the knights in God’s purpose.”

“I- Joseph, I can’t leave… I’m- look at me. I’m a cripple, sick and-”

Joseph smiled at her and said, “And when the men of that place recognized Jesus, they sent word to all the surrounding country. People brought all their sick to him and begged him to let the sick just touch the edge of his cloak, and all who touched it were healed. Matthew, fourteen, thirty-five -thirty-six. I can’t force you to leave Kala, but if you stay, I fear you turn away from God and risk falling prey to the Devil and His legion.”

Kala hung her head, “I... I’m going to need help packing.”

“God bless Kala, God bless your soul. Help her out boys, I’ll be fine.”


	12. Hello Old Friend

Through a drowsy morning haze, Lucy listened to the steady rhythm of the printer spitting out page after page. Her head swayed and jerked back whenever she was half a nod away from falling asleep. The drive back from Grapeseed had robbed her of most of her night sleep and it was reaching the point where coffee couldn’t save her. A yawn, silent and wide shaved a bit of the fatigue away, if only for a moment. Joseph had been driven out of town and he’d taken a portion of the people with him. Kala being one of them. This development was enough to prompt Lucy back to HQ for a more in-depth and in-person report. She squeezed her eyes shut as if to pinch herself awake, “I just want this over and done with...”

From a little further down the hallway she heard a voice, “Just down here? Ah, there she is. Agent Kuo, do you have a minute?”

There was a smartass reply at the ready, though Lucy tucked it away as she noticed the agent had a man in tow with a visitor badge hanging around his neck. Her forehead creased as she tried with little success to place the visitor’s face, “Yes...? I have a small one. Can we make it quick?”

“Right. Uh, this is Andrew Vinson from, uh, sorry, what was it again? Daily...?”

Andrew extended his hand and offered a handshake, “Andrew Vinson, Daily Globe. Pleasure to meet you, agent Kuo. I’d really appreciate a moment of your time.”

“Uh-huh, yeah. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Vinson,” she collected her papers and gestured towards her office. “Listen, why don’t we talk inside?”

While he settled down in his seat, Lucy fluttered about in a cloud of slight restlessness as her words slipped out as broken fragments rather than a flowing sentence, “So... what- what, uh what can I help you with?”

“I’m sure you’re aware of the Power Girl sighting a couple of days ago?”

She paused, a stack of papers in her hands. The papers tapped against her desk as Lucy sank quietly down in her seat, “Yes. I've heard.”

Andrew reached inside his jacket and pulled out a voice recorder, “Good. Good, I was just wondering-”

“Mr. Vinson, listen- I... I'm no longer Power Girl’s handler, so you’ll have to excuse me for wondering why you’ve come to me?”

He blinked at her before letting out a chuckle, “Ah... that. I was- uh, trying all yesterday to get a comment. E-mails got me nowhere and calling just sent me bouncing from one FBI person to the next for an hour and a half. Eventually, your name came up, but you were not available. So, here we are.”

“Right. I'm a bit out of the loop myself just what Power Girl’s official status is in relation to the FBI, but-”

A clacking sound could be heard and Andrew looked rather smug where he sat, leaning on the armrest and pointing is voice recorder in her direction. Lucy sighed and shook her head, a tested smile on her lips, “Listen, Mr. Vinson, I'm afraid I don’t have time to discuss the topic at length as I'm already running late. I do however expect Power Girl to return to duty as normal shortly. Beyond that, I don’t have any further comment.”

“Just one quick question real quick,” Andrew rose to join Lucy has she headed for the door. “Where was Power Girl all this time? Any particular reason for her leave of absence?”

Her expression closed up as she walked down the hallway with brisk steps. The elevator button got slapped with an impatient hand and there was a subtle spring and bounce to Lucy’s feet while she waited for the elevator to arrive, “Those are two questions, Mr. Vinson. And as I already said, no further comment.”

“The people have a right to know agent Kuo,” there were hints of a whole volley of arguments to his tone, though he only got to fire off the first one before the elevator arrived.

Lucy gave her head a polite tilt towards the open elevator, “I agree Mr. Vinson and they will be informed. In due time. I trust you can make your way to the reception on your own?”

“Yes, but-”

“Splendid. I must go now. Talking with you has been most enjoyable.”

And just like that, the elevator doors closed on Andrew before he could squeeze in another word.

* * *

The door to Bailey’s opened, sharp and blinding sunlight sliced at the dimly lit interior. A towering silhouette stood against the light; arms akimbo. Patrons squinted their eyes, muttered complaints simmered among them while a few hands were raised to shield against the piercing sun. With the door closed a sigh of relief ran through the small crowd as they took a moment to readjust their eyesight. Blinking out the last needles of light a beat past for them to identify the new arrival and a cheer roared through the bar. Power Girl was back.

Younger officers bounced on their feet starstruck, while more seasoned officers leaped from their seats and gave her a rough buddy greet. Complete with slaps on the back and crude hugs. It didn’t take too long before they got shooed away by a few lady officers and paramedics that were among the clientele. Go easy on her, she’s just made it back, you guys trying to send her back to the hospital? It was all in good faith though, as laughter sat loose and everyone had a smile on their faces. Even the senior officers gave subtle nods and toasts to Power Girl. Acknowledgment that she returned with a faint smile and nod of her own.

“What can I get you?” Alana asked as Power Girl found her spot by the bar counter.

She looked at the wall-mounted watch, “My shift starts soon, so I'll take a Dr. Pepper.”

A chuckle ran through the crowd. Power Girl spread out her hands, “What? We're back to the good ol’ days boys. And ladies.”

The bar settled down, people returned to their tables, drinks, and stories. A couple paid their tab, put on their officer hats, and headed back to duty. Reruns of yesterday's game played on the TV; the near muted commentary was the only thing that poked the silence. An elegant and handsome man took a seat next to Power Girl with a bottle of light beer in his hand, “’Sup girl? You good? You look good, if you don’t mind me sayin’.”

“Tyrone? Stars above, I haven’t seen you in ages! Come here,” she gave him a big hug. “Yeah, I'm good. Or as good as I'll get.”

Well into his fifties, his hair and mustache were both neatly trimmed and gray, while the lines in his face led character rather than show signs of advanced age. His characteristic boom laugh came as unexpected as usual, accompanied with a toast, “Now just between you ‘n’ me, you look twice as good as most people in these parts. Y'know what I'm sayin’?”

“Why thank you, but uh...” Power Girl glanced over her shoulder before leaning in and whispered in his ear, “you, uh, you kiss your wife with that mouth?”

Tyrone let out another volley of laughter which infected her with a chuckle of her own, “I do, I do. Every night and every morning. Kids too as a matter of fact.”

“You have three, right? Not another one on the way?”

He shook his head, “Nah... Nah, we’re blessed. None of us believed Mr. Douglas when he said greed is good in that movie of his.”

Power Girl patted him on the shoulder ready to take her leave, “Good man. Look, give your wife my best. I got to get going.”

“Ah, y’know... I was wonderin’ if you could a little somethin’, somethin’ for me.”

She slipped back down on her barstool, “Well shit, since you're a literal smooth talkin’ motherfucker, I just have to at least hear you out. What is it? Street racers?”

Tyrone almost spit out his beer, his whole frame trembling with contained laughter. With some effort, he regained his composure, “Nah, that ain’t it. Streets clean from what I can tell. Folks still not using their turn signals though, but y’know me. Baby steps gotta keep figthin’ the good fight. Anyways, a few weeks back the fire department asked for you.”

“Okay,” Power Girl tensed up and drew a breath. “Look, I don’t know anything about the commissioner's pudding or why went missing after my last visit.”

“Girl, who you foolin’? Everyone knows you’ve got the biggest sweet tooth in the state,” he gave a dismissive wave of the hand. “Anyways, forget about the puddin’. They’ve got a graduation thing comin’ up. Apparently, more ladies than usual. Maybe ‘cause of you. I dunno, but they were wonderin’ if you’d be so kind as to show up. Add some style to the event.”

Power Girl groaned, “I don’t do speeches, Tyrone. Smile, shake hands in front of the camera? Blergh.”

“Hey, hey, it’s cool girl,” Tyrone raised both his hands. “Don't shoot the messenger, alright? Just talk to ‘em, hear ‘em out.”

She wagged a finger at him, “I see you, Tyrone. I see you and your little scheme. You want a pretty blonde on TV so when the time comes, you can cuddle the missus and tell her that she’s a trillion times prettier than that blondie.”

Although he cussed between his teeth and slapped his thigh as if the game was up, Tyrone couldn’t stop smiling, “Awh, you got me, girl. You got me good. And I almost had you too.”

“Look, no promises. But... I'll check with them.”

Power Girl flew by the fire station later that same day and chatted up with the fire commissioner. After a little back and forth they agreed that she’d attend on the condition that there would be no speeches or even photos together with the graduates. When the chief asked why Power Girl shook off a white lie about how she was so incredible camera shy and just hated every photo she’d ever been part of. Once an uneventful was over, she flew by the police station and let them know of her plans. She stressed that if there was a problem, they shouldn’t hesitate to call her even if she was knee-deep in a public event.

The big day came along with clear blue skies and just the right amount of breeze that made the flags and banners look damn good. Someone had spilled the beans on Power Girl attending because the media showed up in force. And although the commissioner had gone out on record and tell them that she was not available for comment and she’d rather not be filmed, there was a wall of microphones and camera lenses pointed at the podium. Behind this wall stood a battalion of journalists, just itching for a chance to catch a statement or anything really.

Nothing came of it as the graduation ceremony followed tradition and procedure near flawlessly. All was well and good, but as soon as formalities were over and Power Girl was about to take her leave things took a sharp turn. Video and photography restrictions did little to stop the media from swarming over her like starved piranhas. A torrent of questions backed up by a thorny bundle of microphones and voice recorders in a variety of colors and shapes washed over her. Just skimming the questions gave away their key interests; her absence, what she felt about failing to stop the bomber, and even some absurd rumor that her absence was due to an unwanted pregnancy.

Near overwhelmed, Power Girl almost took to the skies when she spotted Andrew Wilson among the reporters. Shushing the rowdy crowd until they quiet down, she mimicked what she’d seen on TV dramas. Pointing at Andrew she said, “You... uh, go ahead.”

“Andrew Wilson, Daily Globe. More and more women are signing up for rescue professions, many of them citing you as their main inspiration. Was this something you planned when you yourself took up the same duties?”

She pulled back a little from the microphones, “N-no, not- but I consider it a welcome byproduct of my efforts. If I can inspire people, whether they’re men or women, to join the ranks then... all the better.”

The reporters flared up with their own questions which juggled between the ridicules, the irrelevant and the insulting. Disgusted, Power Girl reached within herself, severing the threads of gravity as she started to drift upwards.

“Just one more thing before you leave Power Girl,” she heard Andrew say, a hand reached out in a plea. Heaving a sigh, she relaxed and let gravity coil itself around her again until she stood on the ground once more. “A few of these women have graduated without passing the Functional Skills Training test. The requirements have even been lowered and the age limit raised from twenty-nine to thirty-five.”

“Wait, what? Why?”

“According to my sources, the fire commissioner wanted to act before a possible sex discrimination lawsuit after the city paid $98 million to settle a lawsuit that accused the FDLS of discriminating against minorities.”

“That’s just- not just stupid, but dangerous no matter how you look at it.”

“What do you mean by that, Power Girl?”

She just looked at him at a complete loss for words for a moment before she managed to scrape together her thoughts and push them out her mouth, “They’re being asked to go into a fire with someone who isn’t a hundred percent qualified. Their job is a team effort. If there’s a weak link in the chain, either civilians or firefighters can die.”

“But if the requirements of the test are too difficult for women-”

She facepalmed, “Then you hit the fucking gym like everyone else! Stars and stone, two hundred pounds are two hundred pounds whether you have a cock or a cunt between your legs. If you can’t lift it, that’s not sexist, that’s physics. Am I the only one that sees that?”

A stunned silence followed, dozens of eyes wide eyes stared Power Girl down with an unblinking gaze. Andrew cleared his throat, “Ca-can I quote you on that? Also, considering you’re their inspiration, should you be held responsible for any potential deaths that might occur should these women fail in the line of duty?”

“Fuck off Mr. Wilson. There's your quote.”

* * *

Big, bold headlines on every newspaper more than made up for the lack of pictures of Power Girl as the media feasted on her outburst the day before. It was without a doubt the juiciest pie and everyone wanted a slice, from sociologists, to science fiction authors, and both bloggers and armchair experts threw themselves into the fray just to top things off. Whether it was because they wanted to add some valuable insight or commentary to the case or they simply wanted to bask in the limelight was anyone's guess. Critics and supporters were at each other's throats both offline and online while the main lady of the event had found refuge in the FBI headquarters, “Look Lucy, I know I'm asking for much.”

“Uh, yeah. I'm not touching this one with a ten-foot-long titanium pole,” she wasn’t even looking up from her desk as she collected some papers into a file.

“Just this once, please?” Power Girl actually went down on her knees, pleading. When she got no response, not even a scoff, she shuffled closer on her knees, “Pretty please with sugar on top?”

“Kara, listen to me. This is a shit show. It's your shitshow. Grow up and own it.”

“I can write the statement...”

Lucy tittered, “Oh that’s cute. Listen, why don’t you go and do that, and then,” Power Girl’s vibrant blue eyes shined with a sense of hope, “you hold a press conference where you read your statement. Sincerely I might add.”

“No... stars no, I don’t wanna,” she groaned while reaching after Lucy as if she was trying to drag her down in some imaginary mud pool. “Luuucy...! You do it. You hold the press conference. I'll pay you.”

“If you don’t want to do it to the point where you're willing to pay me, then hire a PR manager,” she had her hand on the door. “Come on, get on your feet. You look bad enough as it is, no need to fan the flames.”

Power Girl straightened herself and adjusted her cape, “Hey Lucy... wanna be my PR manager? I heard the pay’s pretty good.”

Lucy thought it over for a moment, or at the least, it looked like it before she said, “No. I’m good, thanks.”

The two women headed for the elevator together. Passing by a small lounge area there were several copies of various magazines and newspapers on the coffee table. Each and every one of them ran some variant of the same headline. A shudder ran through Power Girl, “You know there are few people I trust as much as you. We make a good team. Plus, the public already knows you, sort of.”

“Flattery won’t get you very far in this building, but thank you for the confidence and compliment,” the elevator doors dinged open. “Going down?”

“No, I'll head up to the roof. Thanks for the talk, Lucy.”

* * *

“Okay, what’s on today’s menu? Let’s have a look,” Karen peeled off the tinfoil that covered the plate. “Mm, round bread with cheese. Also known as pizza.”

She looked at the door. Nothing. Taking a seat in the hallway opposite the door to Rose’s quarters, Karen helped herself with some yogurt. They’d gotten into a routine of sorts, Karen and the crew. They all took turns checking in on Rose. While she never spoke or made contact, Rose was at the very least eating and drinking properly. Healthy, balanced meals were prepared several times a day and only once a week was some fun food prepared. Whenever it was Karen’s shift, she stuck around a while extra, talking mostly to herself. Telling Rose about her day, the weather, or some funny thing she saw on the internet. In all honesty, it was like digging a tunnel through the Himalayas with nothing but a teaspoon. That didn’t stop Karen from trying though, “So when you look at it, pizza is really special. Why you ask? Because it’s probably the food that tastes just as well cold as warm. Not many foods do that. Not many at all…”

She stared at the door frame for any sign of movement. Nothing. Listening intently Karen could hear Rose go about her day in her little cabin. Water was running in the sink, splashing around. Was she washing her hands perhaps? Getting ready to eat? Nibbling on her spoon, Karen looked up at the door, hope shining in her eyes. When her cellphone started blurting out its ringtone, Karen sent the empty yogurt cup flying. Scrambling around in a fluster of limbs, she answered the phone, “Yeah, Karen speaking.”

“Ma’am, there’s a call for you. Do you want me to transfer it?”

She groaned, “Can it wait?”

“No ma’am, I don’t think so.”

Giving Rose’s door one last glance, Karen sighed, “Alright, sit tight captain. I’ll be right over.”

A minute later and Karen was on the bridge, “Okay, here I am. Where’s the fire?”

Captain Sato, all prompt and proper offered Karen a phone and gestured to which button she needed to press to resume the call, “How’s Ms. Tremens?”

“Same old, same old. What about Ted?”

“He just went back to shore for his appointment,” Captain Sato checked her watch. “Some ten minutes ago.”

“Do you think Dr. Friedlander will give us a group discount?” Seeing Captain Sato’s face, Karen was quick to add, “I was joking, jeez. Yeah, Karen speaking.”

“Karen? Oh my God, it’s been ages. So great to hear from you again,” a woman’s voice, cherry and full came through the call.

Leaning on the instrument panel as if it was a bar counter, Karen sipped an imaginary glass of whiskey with her free hand and made a poor woman’s impression of the harden cowboy, “Look beautiful, you sound gorgeous but ah… I can’t place your voice.”

A string of giggles tickled through the phone, “Oh Karen, don’t you remember me? It’s me, Helena.”

It was obvious that the gears in Karen’s head got kicked into overdrive and spinning hard enough to send sparks flying. After a moment Karen said, “Helena… who?”

“Helena! Helena Wayne.”

Karen’s face grew serious and she straightened up her act, “Oh… oh, yeah. Hi. Hey Helena, yeah… no, no. It’s just- y’know- busy and it’s been a few years, so… sorry, I guess?”

“Apologyyyyy… not accepted,” Helena said before sniggering.

“What? Come on, give me a break or at least a discount,” a smile returned to Karen’s face, a smile with a sad undercurrent to it. “But uh, what’s, what’s the occasion? Doesn’t sound like one of those bad occasions… so…?”

“Oh, I’ve got some business in Los Santos and figured I might as well swing by and say hi at the very least. Since you don’t,” Helena said, still with a happy tone to her voice. “Figured we could catch up some time soon.”

“Yeeeeeeaaaaaaaah… yeah, that’s- yeah.”

“Karen…”

“No, no- look, it’s fine. We can- chat or whatever. You’re- you’re on your way now? Uh-huh. And your jet lands when…? Yeah, yeah, time zones am I right? Okay, see you then. Okay, yeah, by- yeah, bye, bye now,” Karen slammed down the phone and pinned it down as if it was a deadly snake. “I’m doomed…”

* * *

Los Santos International Airport, one of the busiest airports in the world. Karen's hands twisted and twirled over and around each other in her lap as her car left the interstate 5 highway. Smooth and graceful the car drove by the terminals and navigated the hustle and bustle with ease, coming to a soft stop at the gates leading into the airport tarmac. While the driver explained his business to the security guard, Karen shifted in her seat, unable to get fully relaxed or comfortable in her seatbelt. Peering out the window, she squinted in the sharp autumn sun trying to spot their destination. On the south end of the airport stood six hangars, only one of them was currently open. Parking inside, just next to a private jet, Karen took one last moment to straighten her skirt before exiting the car, “Oh boy... keep it together Kara. Keep it together.”

Never really one to care much for planes, helicopters or jets in any shape or form, the ability to defy gravity and fly made it pretty redundant, even Karen had heard of the Luxor. She could tell right away thanks to its distinguishable black and gold paint scheme, with an emblem, curtesy of Wayne Enterprises, located on the tail. The aircraft featured multiple yellow/gold swept-back lines down the side of the fuselage to the empennage, as well as stripes on the winglets. Looking back, Karen noticed the pitch-black Cognoscenti car she’d arrived in, her own black shirt and skirt combo with red suspenders and tie, “That’s an awful lot of black. Wonder if that’s a Wayne thing and they’re roping me in somehow.”

Just then the door to the jet opened and out came a woman about Karen’s age. Her black business suit looked like it was in the same price range as a reasonably priced car. Raven black hair at shoulder length had a light bounce to it as she descended the stairs. Behind a pair of purple sunglasses rested blue eyes, windows into a sharp mind. The glasses came off with the grace worthy of a European model and for a moment she surveyed her surroundings before landing her gaze on Karen. She flashed a smile, pearl white teeth framed between dark purple lips, and crossed the distance between the two of them with stunning speed and ease, needle-sharp stilettoes be damned, “Karen! It’s been ages, it’s so good to see you again.”

Before Karen could respond, arms clapped around her and Helena snuggled up to her like a love-starved cat. Despite her roughly five-foot-tall frame, she stood about equal to Karen thanks to her high heels. Karen’s hands hesitated before returning the hug with a couple of awkward pats on the back. Helena’s hands went to her arms, breaking off the hug. Her smile faded to a puzzled frown as her fingers tasted the defined muscles that hid underneath Karen’s shirt, “Oh wow… you’ve grown since last we spoke. Did you pick up bodybuilding along the way?”

“Ah, it’s just- a hobby really,” she wiggled herself free from Helena’s probing hands. “Try to stay in shape and eat healthy, nothing serious.”

“Try?” she looked Karen over, “Karen, you’ve succeeded more than most men I know. How do you do it?”

She shrugged, “Genetics? Anyway, let’s not keep the driver waiting.”

Staff from the jet was already working on getting the luggage loaded into the trunk. For being the daughter of a billionaire, Helena certainly traveled lightly. Or maybe the media had just distorted Karen’s expectations. One thing did catch Karen’s eye however, a crossbow along with a quiver of bolts. Oddly enough the sight made Karen give up a faint smile as if worry had been laid to rest. Settling in inside the car, Karen said, “By the looks of it you’re just here for some fun.”

“Oh? What makes you think that?”

“Arriving in a private jet? And not just any jet; when it comes to luxury private jets, that is the cream of the crop,” Karen nudged a thumb at the Luxor just before it disappeared from view as they drove out of the hangar.

Helena shrugged unphased, “You know how dad is, part of an elite club of all the best kind of people: super-rich celebrities, businessmen and-”

“African dictators.”

Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly with disapproval, “I was going to say, politicians.”

“Look, I just don’t think it’s right to deny that your father went to bed with some shady heads of states for some very lucrative deals,” Karen looked around inside the car, a hand stroked the high-quality leather seat. “The original Cog Cabrio was a landmark in bringing luxury grand tourers to a wider market, which explains why every five-figure broker with a pinstripe suit and a history of sexual assault has one.”

“Karen!”

“At the end of the day, it doesn’t look like the apple fell far from the tree. Why else would Bruce Wayne, son of the great Thomas Wayne invests in this new four-door model, with more headroom and a plush interior, if not to stand out of the crowd for at least another couple of months?”

“Why? Why do you act like this Karen? Why are you trying to push me away?”

She fell silent, turning away and gazing out at the passing traffic outside the window. After an awkward silence, Karen said, “I’m not going back.”

“Good God… is that what you think I’m here for? You think the whole world revolves around you? That the rest of us are just, just… cogs in some machine that exists to merely entertain you?”

“Isn’t it?” Karen turned, meeting Helena’s glare with one of her own. “The long lost filthy rich childhood friend, fresh from some… errand daddy sent her on to Europe. Come back Karen, we’ll make it okay Karen, just throw some money at the prob-”

Karen’s words got stopped when Helena’s palm landed flat on her cheek. Her hand trembled from the pain as if she’d hit a block of concrete. Sharp blue eyes wet with the early arrival of tears, genuine hurt shined through their glare. All Karen did was bite down on her lip and advert her eyes. Clenching and opening her hand in rapid succession while twirling her wrist, it appeared that Helena was alright all things considered. Drawing a deep breath, Helena said, “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have some… fool’s hope of getting you to at least acknowledge your dad with a phone call. But, as the saying goes, business before pleasure.”

“Still daddy’s errand girl I see,” Karen stroked her jawline, still more focused on the passing buildings and cars than on Helena.

Helena scoffed and crossed her arms, “Well, yeah… guess I’m not a strong independent woman like yourself. Sorry, your highness.”

“Stars above Helena, what’s wrong with you? What do you want?”

“I could ask you the same damn thing,” Helena seethed. “I want my friend back. Or know what happened that made her into such a colossal bitch. If it’s not too much to ask for.”

That took Karen by surprise. She tried several times to reply but the word always died on her lips. In the end, Karen couldn’t get out a single word until they arrived at Helena’s hotel; the Von Crastenburg Hotel in Richman. As the hotel staff opened the door, Helena gave her one last look before getting out of the car. In a spur of the moment, Karen dived after her and latched on to her wrist, “Wait. Wait… look, I’m sorry. I’ve got so much stuff going on I can’t keep track of half of it, but- but it’s unfair to take it out on you. And I’d like to make it up to you. How does dinner sound? Just the two of us.”

Helena looked at Karen, down at her wrist and back again. For a moment it appeared as if she was ready to chew off her own hand to get free. She took a deep breath and let out a long sigh, “Good God, I must be out of my mind. Fine, for old times' sake. But it’ll have to be after I’ve taken care of… daddy’s little errand.”

Karen cringed at the last part, letting go of Helena, “Yeah that’s fair. What kind of business are we talking about? You’re not shopping for hotels, are you?”

She chuckled, “No silly. Father wants me to secure the commercial rights to Power Girl.” Before Karen could muster a reply, Helena left, closing the door in her face with a sound thud.

A terrified little laugh slipped by Karen, “I’m double doomed…”


	13. Sacred Lie

The door handle on the fire exit smacked against the concrete wall with a metallic bang. A few agents flinched and their hands jerked towards their sidearm. Seeing Power Girl coming in with a hurried stride made them relax, though they stayed clear of her path. Mutterings and comments about how she should just stop coming by unless it was for official business followed her wake. Under other circumstances, she might have stopped and given them a tiny piece of her mind, but right now time was of the essence. Power Girl scanned the offices and meeting rooms as she hurried past them. She even took it to the point of hovering over the floor so she could peek over the frosted glass. With her search coming up empty, Power Girl headed straight for Lucy’s office. She barged in and spotted Lucy clutching her chest behind her desk, “Freakin’...! Don't you ever knock?”

“Sorry, this is a bit of an emergency,” she closed the door behind her and looked down the hallway with anxious eyes.

“As in a genuine emergency or is this another one of your antics that I have to listen to because you have no one else to talk to?”

She spread her hands and scoffed, “I have friends you know? Even a boyfriend.”

“That’s nice,” Lucy turned back to her computer and started typing away. “The one you threw overboard and almost left to drown?”

Power Girl groaned, “Look, we’ve been over this Lucy... he stole my money and beat one of my friends.”

“Yes, yes... and you handled it with your trademark levelheaded maturity. The emergency Kara. If there isn’t one, please leave. I mean it.”

She pulled up a chair, “Helena Wayne.”

Lucy stopped typing and frowned, “That rings a very, very distant and tiny bell. Is that the name of your emergency?”

“Yes!” she smacked her hand flat on the desk, rattling the pencils in their holder. “She’s here representing Wayne Enterprises. They're after the commercial rights for Power Girl.”

Lucy pulled up a blank web browser window and started a search, “Wayne... Enterprises. You could do worse. Just don’t give them any slack in the negotiations.”

“I can’t meet with her, Lucy. Don’t you see? It'd be a disaster.”

“Listen, you have many abilities, but as far as I know, broadcasting your thoughts telepathically isn’t one of them. Talk to me, Kara.”

She rose to her full height and started to pace around in the small office. A couple of fingernails found her teeth. Not really biting or nibbling at them. Instead, she was satisfied with just tapping or scratching her teeth, “She’ll see it. She'll see that Power Girl and Karen are one and the same. I just know it. She's smart like that.”

Lucy buried her face in both hands, massaging her face, “Kara... that’s not a disaster. If anything, it’s convenient that way. I know who you are, the whole crew on your yacht knows who you are. What's a lawyer added to the mix? It's not like she’s going to shout it out to the whole world, right?”

“It can’t be her. She- I can’t let her find out.”

“If you don’t want her to get the job, I'd suggest you hire someone else.”

She sat down next to Lucy’s desk and rested her chin on her palm, fingers drumming, “Yeah... that might be the best way to go about it. Got any ideas?”

“Listen, if a lawyer from a fortune five hundred company isn’t good enough for you,” Lucy spread her hands, “I’ve got nothing. Now I'd like to go back to work.”

* * *

Later that evening Karen arrived at the Von Crastenburg Hotel. Credit where credit was due, Helena didn’t give any hint of her foul mood when she’d called to invite Karen over. That said, Karen approached the dining with all the thrill of a criminal getting ready to face the firing squad. The dining area had a corner view of the pool on the backside of the hotel. It was bathed in purple lights and whenever staff came or left through a nearby door, party music and cheers bled into the otherwise tranquil dining area. Cream white chairs and ceiling swapped to a shade of purple whenever a passing spotlight tossed a pattern of light in their direction. While the younger generation had their fair share of laughs and showed off their dancing skills with various degrees of success and dignity, a few representatives of yesteryears generation sat neat and quiet by their tables. The occasional toast of fine wine glasses clinked over the soft and inaudible conversation.

Guided to Helena’s table by a waiter, Karen tried to remain graceful while keeping track of her white dress. The skirt went all the way down to the floor, a thin strap connected at the front and tied around her neck. Save for the golden pattern around the two circular holes at the front, the dress itself was a plain, slightly muted white color. By far the biggest challenge was keeping track of the sarong that came with it, as there was no real way to keep in a place other than lightly coil it around her forearms and wrists. The passing glances the other guests gave her made Karen all the more self-conscious and focused on not tripping over her skirt. Her tense shoulders relaxed quite a bit when she finally settled in her seat and was handed the menu, “Oh thank you. Could I have a glass of water please?”

“What’s with the getup?”

“My head stewardess forced it on me,” Karen pouted while hiding behind the menu. “If it were up to me, I'd be wearing jerseys and slippers.”

“Guess you’re not as independent as I first thought,” Helena chuckled. “I recommend Veuve Cliquot, it’s quite good.”

“Hmm, let’s see what they’ve got... oh, Herb Roasted Mary’s Farm Half Chicken. With, uhm, house-made Worcestershire.”

The waiter nodded and smiled while jotting down the order on a little notepad, “And for the side dish?”

“Grilled Seasonal Vegetables,” Karen said closing the menu. “And just water for me please.”

“Of course. And you ma’am?”

“I’d like Pan-Roasted Skuna Bay Salmon with Red Wine Sauce and Potato au Gratin on the side please.”

With the waiter gone Helena raised her glass for a toast, “For the good old days.”

Their glasses let out a light ding together, “Cheers Helena, glad to see you again.”

“So, you’ve got a lot on your plate? What have you been up to?”

Karen took a moment, not quite sure where to begin. She gave a basic summary of what Karen Starr had been up to, from starting a business to failed relationships, all while dancing around her escapades as Power Girl, filling in gaps with half-truths and white lies. By the time she was done, food was on the table and she concluded, “One, two, three, four, five years go by and I don't really know why, but I still feel the same way I did when I was seventeen.”

Helena nodded, “Five years ago I didn't see a belly with a child on the inside.”

A piece of vegetable dropped off Karen’s fork, her mouth agape, “You? A kid? You and- oh, what’s his name again? Richard? Well, uh, congratulations, I guess.”

“Thanks, want to see some pictures?” Helena fished out her phone and tapped on the display before handing it over to Karen. “You just- swipe left. No, your left. Shouldn't you know this?”

Her finger swiped all over the display in a variety of directions, yet it remained as responsive as a sleeping turtle, “Yeah, isn’t it ironic? I made my name and fortune developing software for the darn thing, but look like an idiot using one. Cute kid though, very adorable.”

“Thanks, I was a little worried that the pregnancy would mess up with my exam, but it turned out alright.”

“Right, you went to Harvard for your law degree. Chasing after Richard like some lovestruck Juliet,” Karen said just before she noticed a ring on Helena’s finger. “And I see that you two had your happy ever after too. Congratulations, round two.”

Helena's smile faded, “Thanks. You know Karen, I really wanted you to be my maid of honor,” she took a deep breath. “But you left us. For this place. Never looking back. And now? Seeing you in that dress... you’d been great. I know you would.”

“Helena, I-” words failed Karen, leaving her with a string of letters refused to weave themselves together into a coherent sentence.

She sniffed and blinked, “No matter. A tad too late for that now. We had our second anniversary last May.”

“I see...” silence clogged up the conversation, just the sound of their silverware working on their dishes lingered. “Well, I- uh, guess it must be hard to get back to work, leaving your baby behind.”

“Mm? No, not really.”

Chewing on her food, Karen gestured she’d had something to say, “So grandpa and grandma help you out? Or don’t tell me, Richard is a stay at home dad? Now that I think of it, he’d look pretty smashing in an apron.”

Helena's smile returned, complemented with a soft laugh, “No Karen, no. Father and mother are far too busy. And Richard? He'd never touch a diaper even if his life depended on it. Me neither for that matter.”

“Then who...?”

Helena put down her glass, “Of course we use a nanny. She's worth every penny I might add.”

“...I see.”

“But you don’t approve.”

Karen scoffed, licked her lips before saying, “I just- look, I put more stock in an actual family than some... paid substitute. And if you’re going to have a kid, be a parent. Don't run off chasing career and money.”

“That’s rich,” Helena jabbed her fork into her food, “coming from the daughter who ran away from her Alzheimer struck mother to chase her dream on the other side of the country.”

“Helena, don’t- you want me to leave? Because look, I can leave.”

She paused and thought for a moment, “No. What happened to us, Karen? What happened to you? It's almost like... I lost you after the accident.”

“Doctor said I took a hit to the head, didn’t they?”

A napkin dabbed over Helena’s lips before getting crumbled together and tossed down on the plate, “Oh yes. I remember. Meeting you for the first time after getting discharged from the hospital. You couldn’t speak a word, just these... sounds. You know what else I remember? Crying myself to sleep after grandfather told me there was a chance you’d not only forgotten to talk, but you might even have forgotten about me. That I'd have to start all over again. Just to get my best friend back.”

“Stars above Helena, I- I crashed my car. Or rather dad’s car, but- for what it’s worth, I might not remember much from before the crash. But those early days? After the doctors left? You and me, watching Mister Rogers' Neighborhood and, and,” Karen snapped her fingers a couple of times, “Sesame Street? Was that the name? The, the Muppets thingy. Looking back, they're some of my fondest and dearest memories. No contest.”

Helena drew in a deep, trembling breath. Her eyes swam with tears, “Not fair Karen. It hurts, it hurts so bad seeing you, hearing you like this. Like you used to be. Before the accident. These... tiny glimpses, hidden underneath someone else.”

For all her height and impressive physique, Karen looked incredibly small and continued to shrink as if a boulder of shame weighed down on her, “...sorry.”

Swatting away a tear, Helena’s façade got rebuilt when she asked, “Desert?”

* * *

The chill morning was quiet, those that had roamed the night slipped back to their nests and tucked themselves in while others just started to get ready to face the new day. Kala pulled her coat, one she’d been given second hand the other day by another member of the flock, closer around her. Their camp was small and humble but had everything they needed for a simple life. When they’d first arrived here as a small caravan of cars and trucks that held their lives, Kala had her doubts that they’d be able to turn this empty lot of land into something useful. But the hard and honest work of the flock proved her wrong. Few were strangers to waking up before sunrise and get loads done even before breakfast was served. Then get back at it and not return until lunch, rinse and repeat for dinner. Only then did they ease up, tidy their tools, and get things ready for the next day before getting some quiet time together.

Through their labors, the flock grew closer as everyone chipped in somehow. It wasn’t hard to see the appeal of it all; the work was hard, manual, and honest. But the fruits of those labors were harvested by them and them alone. These people were the masters of their own fate, not gears grounded smooth only to be discarded and replaced in some great machine whose purpose eluded all but those that oversaw its performance. Day after day Kala could see houses take form, a collective cheer ran through the crowd when the water tower came into place. And although she couldn’t swing a hammer for the life of her, Kala became the residential doctor. It mostly boiled down to applying band-aids and chiding people for not taking care of themselves, but her efforts were appreciated nonetheless.

Evenings were filled with preaching the scripture and as the camp got closer to completion, the more people attended and the meetings grew longer for the simple life they’d chosen did not allow modern leisure, “These are the final days. I tell you; the final battle draws near. The Lord hath spoken. We are His Chosen.”

Kala looked up from her notes and took in the crowd. It was hard to put a finger on just what did it, but she got the impression that there was this almost mist like a sense of disinterest from the group. Perhaps it was the change of scenery or the restrictions that brought about the change. Whatever the cause, it was clear that the flock needed something more than just Joseph’s preaching to keep themselves going. If Kala were to take an uneducated guess, she’d say that when the hammers stopped swinging, their minds started to wander and that was eroding Joseph’s grip on the flock. If the flock dispersed, where would that leave Kala? Alone at rock bottom with a snowflake’s chance in hell to pull herself up.

“I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul,” she muttered underneath her breath before putting away her notebook with a slap. She then raised her voice as she stood up from her seat, “It’s in our blood.”

The flock turned and looked at her. Puzzled eyes, sleepy and drowsy form the warm, trapped air in their humble town hall. But there was something else behind that haze, a kindled flame of intrigue. Something new, something fresh piqued their curiosity. Kala needed to get their attention. Despite her limping and the clacking of her crutch, Kala carried herself with confidence as she walked up to the stage, “ _The sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bore children to them._ Long have we thought that these mighty men of old, the men of renown were lost, drowned in the flood. But Power Girl is proof that some of the Nephilim survived. She’s come forth to redeem herself as a warrior in God’s army. We are that army. The proof is in our blood.”

“Her enemies have been bound to the valleys of the Earth for seventy generations. Their shackles will soon come undone and it is our destiny to prepare, better ourselves to be worthy soldiers underneath Power Girl’s command. We’ll be as great She is, through the secrets of our sacred blood, hidden through millennia, we’ll be eternal. Mighty men of the new age, men of renown.”

Kala took center stage, the whole flock fixated on her and her alone. Like a small forest of lit candles, they sat, hinging on words spoken, thirsting for the next truth that surely would come. Was this the key? Give them something tangible and they’ll line up to follow her beck and call? No matter, they were in the palm of her hand now and would gladly help out to carry out their newfound purpose. Thought experiments and hypostasizes on got Kala so far and if she wanted to push her research towards producing results, she’d have to do start collecting data. Joseph had the money, that much was certain. The flock was willing. Kala could probably get some basic equipment into the camp which allowed her to do rudimentary tests from the blood that she’d extracted from the flock.

* * *

Lucy glanced up at the ceiling of her office, her expression at a loss for words when there was a knock on her door, and a fellow agent popped her head in, “Kuo? Got a moment?”

She looked at the door without tilting her head forward, “Yes...? What-”

Before Lucy could finish another woman made her way into the office, leaving a thick cloud of raven black hair trailing behind her, “Helena Wayne, Wayne Enterprises.”

Lucy rested against the edge of her desk, arms crossed over her chest, “A pleasure. It's okay Sarah, just- close the door.”

She took in the sight of her visitor. Helena was an imposing woman, a fine crafted bolt that pierced ahead with speed and determination rarely seen. In a sense she reminded Lucy of Kara, seeing the same confidence. But where Kara’s attitude could every now and then bubble over into a cocky and arrogant mess, Helena seemed far more disciplined with her emotions. Sporting a jet-black business suit, high heels of European design, and a deep purple shirt, Helena reeked of generational money that no amount of perfume could ever hope to mask. Arms crossed, though a single finger tapped at the corner of her elbow with tired and tested patience. Carefully tended eyebrows shifted with a subtle don’t-you-know-who-I-am whisper as if Lucy’s response had been subpar. Lucy kept her cool and smiled, “So Ms. Wayne... what can I help you with?”

“It’s about Power Girl.”

Lucy hung her head and sighed, “Of course it is.”

Without skipping a beat, Helena continued, “I’ve been told you’re the person to talk to if someone needs to get in touch with Power Girl. So, could you call her here?”

“Now?”

She fired off a short string of rapid, barely visible nods. Lucy stole a quick look up at the ceiling before she pinched the bridge of her nose, “Listen, Ms. Wayne, I... have you tried the police precinct where she’s stationed?”

“Yes. Then sent me here, after much back and forth. Now I've been on seven different floors in this building alone and no one seems to want to touch the subject with a ten-foot pole.”

“Okay...” she put her palms together to collect her thoughts, “listen, the thing is we don’t have any way to really instantly catch Power Girl’s attention. Even getting her to work with police radio took some work.”

“Then hail her on the radio.”

Lucy took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you so keen on seeing Power Girl in person? I don’t think it’s fair to interrupt her duties for something trivial.”

“Tell her a representative of Wayne Enterprises is here, willing to discuss merchandising rights as well as movie and television rights. The commercial rights to her brand in general, just say that.”

A snorted laugh slipped by Lucy before she cleared her throat as Helena’s steely gaze drilled through her, “Listen Ms. Wayne... the thing is- Power Girl isn’t really American or even human for that matter. So, her- priorities are different. She doesn’t put much stock in these things. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I really doubt she’d respond to such a call. At least not while she’s on duty.”

“There’s a lot of money to be made,” Helena took a step forward, chin raised just a notch. “Surely, she must need some money or is she fully paid for by our taxes?”

“I believe there is a salary involved yes, though I can’t pull the exact number at the top of my head. Sorry.”

Helena scoffed and shifted from one foot to the other, “And she’s content with that? You’re telling me she’s not interested in indulging herself in the slightest? That she’s some sort of shiny, paragon saint floating above us all on a cloud of pure virtue?”

While Lucy put up an admirable effort not to laugh, there was no hiding the smirk on her face, “Far from it, Ms. Wayne. Power Girl is surprisingly human once you get to know her and get past the whole bullet resilience, flying, and concrete shattering punches. Tell you what, I'll make note of your message and forward it to Power Girl. But whether or not she gets back to you is on her, not me. Does that sound fair?”

Helena shot out a short and swift sigh, sharp with disappointment, “I suppose it will have to do. Here's my card so she can get in touch with me. I'll be in town for the next few days.”

“Wonderful,” Lucy waved in an agent who was walking by. “Could you be so kind as to escort Ms. Wayne back to the reception for me, please? Thank you.”

The door closed and silence snuggled into place in the small office. A muffled ringing of a distant phone sounded a few times before it too died down. Lucy shook her head and kept on pinching the bridge of her nose, Helena’s contact details in hand. From up by the ceiling a voice asked, “Is she gone?”

“Oh for-! Get down from there Kara,” Lucy snapped.

* * *

Power Girl’s cape fluttered behind her as she came to a soft landing, the soles of her boots scraping slightly against the pavement. Richards Majestic Productions was responsible for several classic films in the Vinewood film industry, including legends such as The Shoulder of Orion II. The company was founded by David Richards in 1929 and has been owned by his son Solomon since 1978. It's long history and wealth of experience not only handling some of Vinewood’s most notorious movie stars but in some cases salvaging severely damaged images had made it Power Girl’s first choice. Warding off Helena alone was not for the faint of heart, even more so if she had the full backing and near bottomless pockets of Wayne Enterprises. The gate security guard flustered at her arrival, not quite sure whether she was here for one of the guided tours the studio offered or if on official police business, “Look like I said before, I don’t have an appointment and I just want to talk.”

“Yeah, uh, about that,” the security guard looked around, his hand constantly adjusting his cap, “who were you here to see again?”

“Someone in charge? I have no idea how any of this works.”

“Uh-huh, and- yeah, I can call the office ma’am, but what’s this about?”

Power Girl sighed and looked heavenward, “Commercial rights to me, my... brand or whatever. Movie rights, TV shows, lunchboxes...”

The guard nodded and went to make the call. While she waited, Power Girl heard the familiar Wilhelm scream echoed from the filming area, “Really? They still use that one?”

A few minutes later and Power Girl got ushered inside by a small group consisting of interns and personal assistants. She ended up in an office that looked like a relic from a bygone age. Movie posters from decade-old films hung on the walls, heavy wooden blinds covered the windows straight from a noir black and white film and various movie replica decorated the office. A sarcophagus slightly ajar stood in one corner with a mummy arm reaching outside while a mounted head of a bear hung in another. Opposite of the desk was a fireplace with a tiger carpet in front, complete with a gaping head. Power Girl examined the decapitated hand prop that rested on the desk when the door opened and an elderly gentleman barged in, “I’m terribly, terribly sorry my dear. I really hope you can forgive me for being late.”

“Uh, no- no worries. And you are?”

“Solomon Richards at your humble service my dear,” he greeted her with a bow.

She took his hand, “Kara Zor-L, a pleasure.”

Grasping her hand with both of his, Solomon shook it eagerly, “Marvelous, just marvelous. Please, please. Have a seat. Now then, what can I do for you, my dear?”

Despite his elderly and scrawny frame, Solomon’s old, classic leather chair creaked as he sat down. He tidied his desk, pushing things aside much like a grandparent making a clean slate so he could dedicate his full attention to his grandchild whom he hasn’t seen in months. Power Girl explained her predicament although she skimmed around the details of her reasoning for why she’d rather not work with or for Wayne Enterprises. Somewhere between questions and answers, Solomon found a notebook an old school fountain pen, and a pair of thick glasses. He listened intently while taking quick notes. Even though the notes were taken at bone-breaking speeds, Solomon’s writing was crisp and beautiful.

“So, I guess what I'm looking for is someone who can do all that, and probably some more.”

“Well, you’ve certainly come to the right place, my dear. We have a long tradition of keeping the vultures of the press away from our darlings,” he rose from his seat and headed over to the fireplace. “Here, let me show you.”

On the fireplace, shelf stood several frame photos of gorgeous looking women, some in color others in black and white. They all had style and grace to them that had a timeless feel. Power Girl only half-listened out of politeness as Solomon listed the names and achievements of the various actresses. In a way, his demeanor reminded her of Art and Sid from the precinct. The way he doted over the pictures was very Sid like, who could go on for hours on end with pictures and stories of his beloved grandchildren. And Solomon’s dedication to the studio was very much like that of a caring husband, just like how Art never married anyone, except the police force. He was old and grey, well into the autumn of life. Even without the raging fire of youth, Solomon was like soothing embers. A content smile rested on her lips, “Look Mr. Richards I have to get back on duty, but why don’t we-”

Power Girl got interrupted by the office door opening with a bang and a man stomped inside as if he owned the place, “Slick! I knew you had it in you, you ol’ film dog.”

“Now well, I- uhm,” Solomon started as the man caught him in an awkwardly ingenuine hug. Refusal, however, didn’t appear to be an option and Solomon just relented.

“And you- hubbada-hubbada,” the man gave Power Girl a once over. It passed over her in just a second and a half, but there was something about the intense hunger in his eyes that made her squirm a little where she stood. He shot her a cocky grin and snapped his hands into to finger pistols, “nice pair you got there gorgeous.”

Her jaw tensed up to the point where her words had to wiggle their way between her teeth, “Mr. Richards would you mind introducing us?”

Solomon shrunk back like a withering flower, whatever enthusiasm he had shown Power Girl less than a minute before was now a thing of the past. The man scoffed and gave her an offended glare, “Hey, gorgeous. I know that as a rule, you blondes have more tits than brains. But come on... Devin Weston.”

The way Devin dropped his own name suggested that he had kings on speed dial and queens fawning all over him. Power Girl’s smiled a stiff and rigid smile while her hands folded underneath her cape so they could curl into fists in private, “No. Can't say that name means anything to me.”

“Mr. Weston,” Solomon injected as a meek attempt to diffuse the situation, “this young lady and I have talked about signing a potential contract with the studio.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Devin patted him on the shoulder, “you done good slick. I knew you had at least one golden egg in you before kicking in. You've done your part, relax. Let me take it from here, okay?”

“Friend of yours, Mr. Richards?”

He shook his head, “No my dear. Mr. Weston is a holder in the studio. We've had a... rough few years, but Mr. Weston was kind enough to support us when no one else would.”

“I see.”

Flicking open a globe to reveal a hidden bar, Devin helped himself to a generous serving of whiskey, “You're young, you're hungry. I like that. This shark has always got room for the right remora.”

“Looks like you’ve misunderstood Mr. Weston. I'm not particularly hungry.”

“You've got real potential, gorgeous,” he nudged his head over at Solomon with a wink and smile. “Just don't let dead wood hold you down. Surround yourself with has-beens and soon enough you'll become one yourself.”

"Looks like you’re very keen on securing this deal, Mr. Weston. Mind telling me why?”

Devin scoffed and shook his head, “Is there anything more fun than screwing over your so-called rich friends?”

Power Girl blinked and took a moment for it to sink in, “You- just want to flip off Wayne Enterprises. That's- that's your reasoning?”

“Gorgeous - you know I'll look after you,” he put down his drink and jerked both thumbs at himself. “Stick with Team Weston and you'll always be a winner.”

“Right. Look, it was quite nice to talk to you, Mr. Richards. But I'm afraid I have to get back on duty. Have a good day.”


	14. Smash ‘n Grab

“Got a suspect description for me?” Power Girl said while she adjusted the earpiece to make it fit better.

“Male, all black clothing. At least the upper half.”

She rolled her eyes, “Solid copy. So, I'm looking for an urban ninja. Who does he think he is? That he’ll somehow just blend in, wearing all black and a motorcycle helmet? When it’s like seventy degrees outside? Idiot.”

Dry Dock Street was calm with only scarce traffic rolling by and not a single pedestrian in sight. Power Girl kept a keen eye up and down the length of the street while her ears strained to filter out any sound that might be of interest. The air carried little that she could use in the pursuit, just exhaust, and a muddled mix of chemicals. As she hovered in midair while making a slow pivot, Power Girl caught sight of someone matching dispatch description, “All units, this is PG. I think I've got our suspect. Northbound on South Shambles Street.”

“We see ‘im, we see ‘im.”

The suspect's arms flailed around as the officers jumped out of their car, weapons ready. From this distance, even with her sharp ears all Power Girl heard was muffled and fragmented remains of commands barked at the suspect. She tensed up and got ready to intervene when she saw the suspect reach for something behind and underneath his oversized hoodie. A fraction of a second before she rushed forward to make a move on whatever it was, the suspect got hit with tasers and dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. With her nerves loosening up, Power Girl sunk down and took a seat at the edge of a roof, “Good job guys. Good job.”

Hinges shrieked in a piercing duet behind her, making her  whirl around fists raised and eyes glowing, “Ah, sorry Jerry, could you repeat that? I uh- Oh my god, please! Don't shoot!” A man tripped over himself, squirming for cover with mixed results before settling by shielding himself with arms and hands as best he could.

“Look if you don’t want to get shot, don’t sneak up on people like that. Now get out of here sir.”

The man dusted himself off, though instead of excusing himself he picked up his cellphone and ended his call. She expected him to leave, but instead, he lingered as if he had something to say but lacked the courage to speak up. Without a word Power Girl slipped off the edge of the roof, gravity snatching her by the legs and yanked her downwards. She heard the man called after her, a common occurrence since most people tend to forget that Power Girl could defy gravity at will. Gravity’s hold on her slipped and she rose up in the air, leaving its invisible fingers reaching for her. Resting in midair for a moment as if to assure the man that she was perfectly alright she said, “Go about your business sir. This is private property.”

“I assure you I have every right to be here. It's my property after all.”

“Is that so?” Power Girl glided a little further away from the building. Like most buildings in this neighborhood, it had seen better days. It wore a decade and a half of wear and tear. A faded sign advertised for a public relations company caught her interest. “You’re Max Lord I take it then?”

“Maxwell Lord the third, that's me,” he said while holding a cigar in place with his teeth, busy hands patted over his pockets.

“How’s business?”

He paused in a rigid pose, zippo lighter in hand. Two, three flicks of the lighter later, and his cigar was lit, his rigid pose peeled off with a few puffs, “I manage. Why, are you interested in signing up?”

Power Girl scoffed and shook her head, “Can’t imagine you’re any different from the rest. It's all about the money, isn’t it?”

Max's eyebrows trekked upwards; his eyes puzzled. He started to stroll around, looking down at the ground and taking deep drags of his cigar. Every once in a while, he glanced over his shoulder as if to check that she was still there. Finally, he said, “You- you don’t care for the money, do you?”

“No, I don’t. Look, I'm not some naïve little girl fresh off the boat. I know what I want. Money is part of the baggage, but it’s pretty far down on my list.”

Power Girl tilted her head when she caught Max muttering beneath his breath, “Interesting... interesting.”

“I’m still on duty so I better fly. Take care, Mr. Lord”

“Wait! If you’d like, maybe we could talk?”

She stopped and turned, “You’re not going to get rich working with me, Mr. Lord.”

“No, but... money isn’t everything. It's a lot, I'll give you that, but everything is a bit of a- eh? H-hello?” Max looked up to the clear blue sky and found it empty.

* * *

With the sunset hours ago, streetlights stood for most of the illumination at StarrWARE. Dark streets glittered with a wet texture while dozens of little beads of rain contemplated whether they should stay put or trek downward the window. Her descent was smooth, the blue boots made less sound than a landing cat on the roof. Swiping a keycard and entering the PIN code, Karen checked her surroundings one last time before slipping inside. She kneeled down next to a bag just inside the doorway, putting the keycard between her lips while pulling out clothes. Wrinkled and probably a size off, Karen slipped the clothes over her white sleeveless suit before she stuffed her cape and boots into the bag. A puff moved strands of blonde hair out of her face just before she stopped putting on a new pair of shoes. It was faint, probably too faint for a human to notice at this distance but Karen heard fingers clacking away on a mechanical keyboard.

Between the Christmas lights and decorations sat a couple of employees diligently by their desks. Fatigue was on their faces, like a partially melted mask of wax which was only made worse by the pale light from the monitors. They looked without really seeing, a poor man’s version of the thousand-yard stare. Fingers paused, not because they took notice of Karen’s arrival, but most likely because the gears in their heads were acting up. A train of thought on the edge of derailing. Karen clapped her hands with a sharp pang, a startled jolt hit everyone in the room and wide eyes landed on the source of the sound, “Ms. Starr? Wha- what are you doing here?”

“I see that the telepathic update to our office Wi-Fi is working as intended,” she put her keycard away in her pocket. “Seriously guys, go home.”

“But the new IOS update has-”

“Go. Home. Spend some time with your families,” a soft smile smoothed out the edge to her voice. “You work to live, not live to work. C'mon now, consider it my Christmas gift to you or you granting me my Christmas wish.”

He lowered his head , “Thanks, but we- we wanna see this through.”

Karen gave him a once-over, “You couldn’t see the walls inside a barn. Look, I appreciate your dedication and hard work, but it’s not worth your health. You're less good to me sick and no good to me dead. I will not debate with you. Go home, get some rest.”

“If you say so Ms. Starr,” he and the rest of the gang sulked a little before collecting their things. Cans of energy drink went into the trash along with leftovers from some takeaway shop while coffee cups found their way to the sink.

With everyone gone and only the sound of passing traffic outside scraping at the silence, Karen allowed herself a sigh of relief. Catching her reflection on one of the glass walls, she adjusted the collar on her shirt to better hide the suit that she wore underneath before locking herself into the server room. A wall of clogged, stuffed air met her inside intertwined with the smell of month-old dust. Her make-shift data extraction device was still chewing at its task, not much had changed since she left it. If anything, the thin coat of dust that rested on top of it was a tell-tale sign that no one had bothered it. She touched it gently in a few spots, it was warm to the touch but not enough to warrant any concern. 

After typing in some commands, a crude waterfall of text and code rushed over the screen. She scrutinized it for a moment when a worried look fell over her face like a blanket, “Did I forget my contact lenses? I did, didn’t I? Well shit... thank the stars above that anyone was probably too tired to notice. Probably. Most likely. Anyhow...”

Navigating through a wall of text using just text-based commands, Karen directed her data-mining device to a new portion of the data stored in her bracers. With a satisfying snap of her finger, she pressed the enter button and the program started to work. The monitor shined to life as a thick soup of scrambled text jerked across it at an irregular pace, “Hmm, look at all these numbers. They don’t appear to be random. Equations perhaps? I wonder if this is-” her musings got interrupted by her phone ringing.

“Ma’am, you should return to the yacht.”

Karen sighed, “Look, captain, unless there’s a fire I don’t-” 

“Uhm... Ms. Starr?” Rose’s voice sounded like a little kitten meowing from the bottom of a well. “If- if it’s not too much-”

“Rose, hold that thought. One minute, I'll be there in one minute,” Karen almost ripped the door off its hinges opening it, leaping up the stairs she tore off her clothing and snatched the bag before taking to the skies. Squeezing the bag in a deadly hug Karen punched through the sound barrier as soon as she was clear of the buildings. The air howled around her ears, clawing away what remained of her clothes. Her landing was far from graceful, legs slamming into the helipad like a couple of mortar shells that sent a metallic boom ringing into the night. The momentum made her naked feet skid hard enough to peel off the paint and sent her tumbling towards the bridge with all the grace of a ballet dancing hippo. Her breath was deep and savage when she arrived at the bridge, threads of hair stuck to her rain-soaked face. Without skipping a beat Karen took firm strides over to where Rose stood, still holding the telephone and wrapped her in a big hug.

Captain Sato glanced at her watch, “Faster than a speeding bullet indeed. It appears you’ve made a full recovery. Congratulations ma'am. Now, if you’re done Ms. Tremens have a question for you.”

“Mm? What is it, Rose?”

Still folded inside Karen’s strong arms, Rose fidgeted and appeared too bashful to look her in the eye, “Uh, well, I was just curious- if, if you had any plans for the holiday?”

Karen blinked, needing a second or two before the question actually sank in, “Plans? Holiday?"

A heavy sigh escaped Captain Sato, “You’ve never really cared much for it, but it is Christmas after all.”

“No. No plans, just- doing whatever...”

“Oh, okay. Uhm, in that case,” a flush crept up her face, “w-would you like to spend the day with me?”

After a change of clothes, Karen and Rose spent the rest of the evening enjoying snacks and a string of Christmas movies in a candlelit living room. The two of them snuggled underneath comfy blankets with only the TV remote peeking out every now and then. Somewhere along the line, Stinky decided to join them, finding his resting place neatly between them. It didn’t take long before he was reduced to a bundle of soft fur and content purrs. By the fourth movie, Rose started to nod off, and early into the fifth movie she was sound asleep in Karen’s arm. Tender fingers pulled back a few strands of hair from Rose’s sleeping face as Karen noticed her eyelids grew heavier. Resting her cheek on top of Rose’s head, she accepted sleeps generous invitation with a soft smile.

* * *

With a cup in one hand and kettle in the other, Kala tried to pour herself a cup of tea. However, finding that goldilocks zone where the warm water flowed with control proved difficult. A few times she came close, only to reel the kettle back and try again. Without warning, the muscles in her wrist jerked and hot water splashed on her hand. The pain traversed through her nerves like glowing razor blades, her hand jerked away which sent the cup flying. As for the kettle, it got slammed against the table while muttered curses hung on Kala’s breath. It was late, dark, and cold. Both inside her little clinic/lab and outside. Electricity was scarce in the camp since solar panels didn’t do much good once the sunset so the power they had left in the battery pack needed to be rationed. And with the new year right around the corner, the sunset mighty early and rose might late.

Kala found her trusty crutch and started to look for the cup when there was a knock on the doorframe, “Joseph. What brings you here so late? Is someone sick?”

“Kala, time to call it a night,” he said. After a small pause, he added, “We need to conserve the power.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed, “Yeah… I just thought I had- I cut the heating to buy a few more hours.”

Joseph rubbed his hands together and showered them with his breath, “So I noticed. Have you found anything?”

“I think so,” she bent down and picked up the cup. Limping back to the kettle she admitted, “It’s hard to tell for sure to be honest.”

Leaning on her crutch, Kala poured herself a cup of tea. Steam swirled and twisted up from the cup, carrying with it the rich aroma of black tea. A silent yawn twisted her face before she half raised the kettle in an offer to Joseph. He silently declined, putting the hands behind his back and paraded around the clinic instead. Kala noted that he wore a transparent mask of disdain on his face as he took in the sight of the various equipment she had at her disposal. She cupped her tea in both  hands, its warmth bled into her fingers and palms. Only the sound of Joseph’s boots strolling across the wooden floor prevented silence to claim complete domain over the room. The planks creaked and groaned as they shifted underneath his weight. A hallmark of a third-rate carpentry job. 

“You will find something, won’t you Kala?” he asked after a while.

She shrugged and gave a confident smirk, “Oh I’ve found something alright. Something worth looking into, but…”

“But what?”

“I honestly can’t do much about it with what I have here.”

Joseph groaned and sighed, “Kala…”

Putting the cup away, Kala limped over with renewed enthusiasm. Leaving her crutch behind, she clung to the table edge for support, “Joseph, it’s proof. Proof that some in this camp have… something weird in their genetic code. It’s a minor part of the genome that… I honestly can’t make heads or tails of.”

He glanced at her sideways, skeptical and wary, “What does this genome do?”

“I don’t know. It’s not active,” Kala explained, though she realized that she was starting to lose Joseph’s attention and interest. Licking her lips, she quickly added, “You know how people have different colored eyes. Sometimes, after a long string of say brown-eyed born relatives, suddenly there’s a child born with blue eyes. That gene, the gene that controls blue eye color didn’t come out of anywhere. It was there all along, just… dormant.”

Joseph mulled it over, scratching his chin. After a moment he nodded, “Go on.”

“If we could find a way to activate these genes that I’ve found…” she made a rolling gesture with her hand, “I’m not going to promise a new Power Girl, but it’s almost certain it’ll be amazing.”

“From pawns to queens…”

Kala frowned, “Sorry?”

He shook his head and waved with his hand, “No, nothing. It just reminded me of chess. If you can get a pawn, the weakest of your pieces, all the way over to the other side of the board, it becomes a second queen. Arguably the most powerful piece on the board.”

“I suppose that’s one way to look at it,” she nodded.

“How many candidates do you have?”

“About a dozen so far, but I haven’t tested everyone in the camp yet. Like the children for instance.”

Joseph crossed the arms over his chest as he looked heavenward. Just then the lights went out and the two of them stood in still darkness. Wood creaked under their shifting weight while their eyes drank greedily from what little light the night offered. Dimly illuminated forms carved out parts of their silhouettes from the deep shadows. After a few minutes, Joseph inhaled sharply and said, “Can they be activated?”

“Yes,” Kala slithered back towards her crutch, her hand searching. “But I can’t do it with this equipment.”

“What do you need then?”

“The equipment is expensive, it’s not something you can just waltz into the local supermarket and pick off the shelf,” she admitted. The truth had a bitter taste to it in her mouth. “But I know the ULSA has it. It was the reason why I applied for a job there if I’m, to be honest.”

“Will they cooperate?”

Kala scoffed and grabbed her crutch, leaning into it heavily, “Never. Even if they did, I’d- we’re at war Joseph. We are the instruments of God’s will. Do you honestly believe that we can make an omelet without breaking a few eggs?”

“No… no, we can not,” Joseph said before letting out a weary sigh. “We’ll discuss it with the flock, first thing in the morning.”

* * *

Thousands of little shards of glass were spread out over the floor like snow, only short jagged teeth remained stuck in the window frames behind Power Girl. She hovered just a small foot above the floor, lying down on her stomach being careful not to upset the crime scene. Outside there was a muttering crowd of students, their curiosity held back by university security. Whenever she spun clockwise or counter-clockwise for a better look, a distinct  _ oooh! _ ran through the crowd along with exciting commentary like  _ did you see that? _ and  _ how does she do it? _ Her brows snapped together, “Get lost. Can't you see I'm trying to work here?” she grumbled through her teeth. 

Rising up in the air until she bumped into the ceiling, Power Girl sat in midair with her legs crossed. Several windows were smashed in from the outside, that much was obvious from the glass shards. The car mats thrown over the bottom of the window frame shielded the burglars from cutting their hands. Hints of footprints could be seen on the floor; almost coffee brown marks were tattered about. What Power Girl found odd was that the footprints didn’t have any shoe pattern on them. If anything, they looked like someone had wrapped their shoes in plastic bags. 

“Alright, alright. Break it up folks, nothing to see here,” a voice sounded over the idle chatter of the crowd.

“Sgt. Lesperance, what took you guys so long?”

He sighed and cracked his neck, “Traffic and if I'm being honest last night wasn’t really that easy on me either.”

Power Girl descended until they were at eye level, “Oh yeah, you had a date on new year's, right? How did that go?”

“So-so,” Lesperance adjusted his belt, “Anyhow... What’cha got PG?”

She spread her hands, “Smash and grab. No witnesses, security figures it happened last night. They probably used the fireworks and partying as cover.”

Tucking his thumbs in his belt, Lesperance peered through one of the broken windows. His tall and imposing frame cast a large shadow, “Hmm... don’t recognize the handiwork. Do you?”

“No, it doesn’t look like anyone I'm familiar with,” she picked a piece of lint from her cape. “Sgt. Raia went with security to review tapes. We'll have to wait until the staff comes here to help us take inventory of what’s stolen.”

He removed his hat, revealing a pronounced widow’s peak and his remaining dark  brown hair which was kept tightly trimmed. Hat in hand, he scratched his forehead with his thumb, “You don’t... smell or sense anything unusual do you PG?”

“What? I'm a Jedi now?” she let out a light chuckle. “No, there’s no  _ disturbance in the Force _ . By the looks of it, they only snatched equipment. No chemicals.”

“Druggies from out of town maybe? Looking to set up shop?”

She slipped back outside through the window, “Could be, but I hope-”

Power Girl stopped herself when the crowd outside grew louder, cameras flashing and microphones waving. An incomprehensible pulp of questions and pleas for attention rolled out of the crowd. Pivoting on her heels away from the circus, s he pinched the bridge of her nose, “Okay. Who’s the genius that called the press? And why are they even here in such absurd numbers? You'd think it was the second coming of Elvis.”

“C’mon PG, you know how the young folks are. This is gossip central,” Lesperance leaned in and added in a hushed voice, “Plus word in the tabloids has it that you and Elvis come from the same planet.”

“What?! Stars and stone...” She rested a hand on her hip, “On what grounds? I don’t sing. Ever. It's against the Geneva convention.”

Lesperance chuckled, smoothing out his deeply lined face. Aside from perhaps Lucy, he was the one Power Girl had troubled the most. Her earliest antics had become his mess to clean up since he always felt that police officers deserved legal protection as well as anyone else. While he was certainly not the one and only that had been called in to smooth things out, Lesperance was very much the guy that dug the trenches others used. However, unlike Lucy who’d been a firm believer in Power Girl from day one, Lesperance stuck with her more as a matter of philosophical principle than anything else. With fewer antics, it had gotten better between the two of them. Though just as things were starting to turn around, Power Girl just had to run her mouth. She examined his face, a pained sadness clouded over her eyes. Which lines on his face were because of her? How deeper did the other ones get because of this latest shitshow? 

“Look, this is probably not going to work out. I'll take off. That should make the vultures leave you guys alone and let the CSI crew do their thing.”

“You sure?”

She patted him on the shoulder and smiled, “Yeah, if you guys need a bloodhound, I'm sure Sammy wouldn’t mind coming over with Kita in tow.”

“Alright, stay safe out there.”

* * *

Kara tilted her head to the side and frowned at the computer screen, “Okay, what am I looking at?”

On the screen was a series of equations, mathematics that were above and beyond Kara’s own knowledge. Even if they were too complex for Kara to solve in her head, she started to look around the internet for something similar. A big challenge with finding a match was the different terminology between human and Kryptonian. After digging through various mathematical disciplines online with little luck, Kara shifted her approach. Much like how human-computer systems were  divided into separate parts like operating system, software, data storage, and BIOS, similar ideas could be found in Kara’s bracers. If she could determine where these equations came from it might be a clue as to what they were used for. 

Interestingly enough it wasn’t stored in the part where she’d found a lot of data records. There had been this large segment where tons of data could be mined, almost like a bottomless Wikipedia. Instead, it came from a completely different part, one that had been largely untouched. Although the data was very simplistic it had been difficult to extract, “It’s almost as if I’m fiddling with a BIOS… Hold on. Does this mean that-”

Her fingers ran across the keyboard like a group of hyperactive tap dancers. Scanning the page as it loaded, grumbling at pop-ups and adds blocking her view, Kara found what she was looking for; orbital mechanics and motion. Some further digging around and she found a site that allowed her to experiment with the equations. After feeding the human equations with the Kryptonian data she printed out both. Snatching the printout, she held it up and compared to side by side with the print of the Kryptonian data. It took a moment but her brain made the connection. A squeal escaped her and she almost ran Rose over while on her way out, “Oh, I’m so sorry Rose. Are you okay?”

“I’m- I’m fine Ms. Starr, really. Is something wrong?”

“Not at all!” Kara beamed and ran outside leaving Rose behind in a trail of laughter.

Outside the night was chill and a new moon hung low on the night sky. Kara climbed the stairs to the top deck, taking two steps at once. Like a child on a treasure hunt, she looked down on her papers and up at the starry sky high above. The stars shimmered cold and bright against the dark blue sky, like diamond dust scattered by some celestial engineer at the dawn of time. It wasn’t until she heard Rose call for her that Kara noticed she’d taken flight and was hovering some hundred feet above the yacht’s helipad. Making her decent Kara embraced Rose in a big warm bearhug, “Uh, Ms. Starr? What’s going on? Is everything alright?”

“I found it, Rose, I found it! Look!” Kara showed her the now crumbled papers.

“I- I don’t understand Ms. Starr. Could you slow down? What have you found?”

“Home, Rose. I found home. These are the orbital mechanics and motion of Krypton.”

Rose blinked and seemed quite unsure what the proper response would be, “That’s… good…?”

“You bet it is!” Kara looked up to the night sky again, “One of those stars is my home.”

“Uh, which one?”

She shifted from one foot to the other , “This isn’t enough to pinpoint it on the sky, but it’s a start. I know where to look for more answers.”

“Good, I’m happy for you Ms. Starr.”

Kara smiled from ear to ear, “Thanks. I don’t know anything about astrology, but the good thing about not knowing is that you can always learn more.”

“Good for you Ms. Starr. But… can we go in now? It’s getting chilly out here.”


	15. Krypton In the Sky With Diamonds

“Mr. Lord? I’m special agent Lucy Kuo,” she offered her hand.

“Pleased to finally meet you agent,” Max took her hand and shook it, “heard a lot about you from our mutual friend over here.”

Power Girl stood a little a part fiddling with her earpiece. It took a moment before she noticed their eyes on her. Glancing up she said, “What? Never seen an alien with tech issues before?”

“No, now that I think about it, you and tech problems are quite the duo,” Lucy smiled.

Max  rubbed his hands together, “So… the big debut, huh? This is it.”

The trio had found themselves a quiet meeting room in the FBI HQ. Just a couple of floors down were media outlets from all over the world stuffed together, eager and hungry for Power Girl’s first press conference since the congressional hearing that followed her reveal. There had been protests to the fact that the hearing took place behind closed doors and that the main star herself was not available for comments or even a photoshoot. But no matter how loud they protested, government officials refused to bow and cited national security concerns like a broken record. When they finally did ease up on these restrictions, Power Girl herself remained elusive and avoided the media like the plague. Something had to yield and for a while, Lucy was Power Girl’s liaison and point of contact, though only as a temporary position. 

“Nervous?” Lucy asked.

“Oh, well now… I’d be lying if I said no, but uh…” he swallowed and tucked at the collar of his shirt with two fingers, “kind of late to bail out now.”

“You’ll be fine. Kara’s got your back, don’t you Kara?”

She tapped the earpiece while sitting cross-legged in mid-air, “Is it the battery? Thought I charged it last night so- uh? What? Who? We’re going?”

Lucy leaned closer to Max and said, “On second thought, maybe you should keep an eye out for the fire alarm, in case you need a distraction.” 

“Ah… ah-ha-ha-ha, you’re, uhm,” Max wagged a finger at her, “quite the jokester. Not quite what I expected, but-”

“I have my moments,” she opened the door, “shall we? Kara, stop poking around with that thing, you hear?”

Power Girl drifted on an unseen pillow towards the door without looking up from her tech issue, “Yeah, yeah…”

While the trio waited for the elevator to arrive Lucy said, “Listen, you’ll be taken inside by Eric, he’s from the press office. He has a lot of freckles, can’t miss him.”

“He also borrows his girlfriends’ shampoo. Thinks he’s all James Bond about it, but I can tell.”

The two looked at Power Girl before exchanging glances between themselves, “Anyway, he’ll guide you through the process. He mentioned something about the whole women in the firefighter debacle might flare up again, so be ready for that.”

“I love puns.”

“Kara? Shush.”

Power Girl frowned and held the earpiece up against the light, “Is that…? That’s ear wax. Ewh… no wonder I couldn’t get it to turn on, the button was all clogged up.”

“Right, the firefighter episode. I remember that one,” he tapped his foot. “Well, between the three of us we’ll manage I dare say.”

“Oh, I’m not joining. You two are on your own.”

Max blinked as the color faded just a tad from his face, “You’re not? Uh, may I ask why?”

“I’m currently on an undercover assignment, so I can’t appear on TV or in the newspaper,” Lucy said as the elevator arrived. Holding the door open for them she continued, “Strictly speaking I shouldn’t even be here, but Power Girl is a wei- special case.”

“I heard that,” Power Girl injected as she fit the earpiece back in place.

“Sorry.”

“No, no… not you Lucy, the radio.”

“Kara, you have a press conference in,” she checked her watch, “two minutes. Whatever it is, it’ll have to wait.”

Power Girl shook her head and started opening the emergency exit hatch at the elevator's ceiling, “Look, there’s a sailboat that’s sinking, I’ve got to help them. No one else will make it in time.”

“Wait, listen Kara-”

Before Lucy could get out another word, Power Girl ascended through the emergency exit, leaving only the trail of her fluttering cape behind. Max and Lucy just stood there dumbfounded for a moment, staring at the open hatch. He raised a finger at the hatch and looked at Lucy, “Did she just…?”

Lucy let out a heavy sigh, “Yes… yes she did. She does that, a lot. So, you might as well get used to it. Good luck down there, you’re going to need it.”

As the elevator door closed on Max, he muttered to himself, “Oh boy… oh boy, oh boy, oh boy.”

* * *

A gust of wind ran through Power Girls' hair and tugged at her cape before going about its merry way. Over the rolling waves of Paleto Cove, a handful of seagulls cried to one another while cruising on the wind. Her nose crinkled at the smell of seaweeds and ocean; it was so much stronger out here compared to Vespucci Beach. It didn’t take her long to spot the sailboat, its red-brown bottom stood in stark contrast to the deep dark blue of the ocean and the foam that rested on top of it. The slippery and curved surface didn’t allow her to land, so she lingered as close as she could to listen for signs of life. When she didn’t hear anything, she went up and down the length of the boat, kicking it here and there in hopes of getting some sort of response. Just past the mid-point, her hearing caught wind of spluttering cries for help accompanied by a desperate pounding.

Power Girl floated around the boat, assessing the situation and started to consider her options. The bottom was for the most part far too wet and smooth for her to grab on to. There were these scratches on one side as if a great predator had taken a swipe at it. But what little texture they  provided wasn’t enough for her to secure a solid grip. Pushing on the bottom fin to roll the boat over proved futile. Power Girl shifted tactics and tried to grab the edge of the boat and get it rolled over that way. But the wood snapped off in her hands before she could make any progress. Whether it was because the mast and sails had gotten tangled up in some rocks at the bottom or were simply too heavy in the water she couldn’t tell. Soaking wet Power Girl pulled away to get clear of the splashing sea, “Just how in the- Looks like the direct approach is my best option.”

She hovered over the boat once more, swiping saltwater from her face while searching for the survivor by knocking on the bottom. Once more she got a response, though weaker this time around. Taking a deep breath, she shouted, “Stay clear of the walls, I'm going to punch through!”

Her fist came down like a ten-ton hammer, the wood cracked and splinters started to fly. Alternating between hammering with her fist, searing away with her heat vision, and prying her way with her fingers Power Girl managed to make a hole big enough to get some fingers through. One of her feet got planted against the smooth wood and using both her leg and arm, Power Girl tore a solid chunk of wood away. The gaping wound was large enough for an adult to slip through. Inside she found an elderly man, shivering wet holding on to a piece of furniture that kept him afloat, “Lord almighty!”

“Not quite, but I'll get you out of here nonetheless sir. Take my hand.”

A trembling hand reached out towards her and as soon as Power Girl had secured a good grip, she pulled the man out. For the last stretch, she gave a solid yank to hoist him up out of the water and let him sit on her thigh, “Don’t worry sir. I've got you.”

“The beast! The great beast comes for us I tell you,” the man clung around her neck like a terrified child. “I’ve seen it...”

Securing a better hold of the man, Power Girl started her ascent, “Seen what sir?”

"Leviathan...” the word escaped his lips in a horrified whisper. “Nothing on earth is its equal – a  creature without fear. It looks down on all that are haughty; it is king over all that are proud.”

She wore a blank skeptic look on her face, “Uh-huh... Probably just shock from the cold water, or just some stray gray whale that came out of nowhere.”

“No! You don’t understand! Heed the word of God; No one is so fierce that he dares to arouse him; Who then is he that can stand before Me?”

“Okay, let’s just calm down and get you some hot soup and some dry clothes, sir. And if you’re worried about horrifying sea creatures, don’t you worry sir. I'll take care of it should it come to that,” Power Girl assured the man as they came to a soft landing just outside the sheriff’s office in Paleto Bay. One of the deputies came out and took over.

Power Girl returned to the sailboat to assist with the recovery. When they finally hauled it out of the ocean it was late, the sun dipping in the horizon with just a slither of purple-red that faded into the dark blue of the coming night. as the crew secured the boat for transport, Power Girl examined the scratch marks closer, “I’ve seen these before. Smaller, but the same. Just where? Humane Labs? Stars and stone, what were they cooking in those labs?”

* * *

“Doctor Kapur! Doctor Kapur, you’ve- where are you?” a voice demanded as it barged into her lab. It startled her enough to make her bang her head on the table she was underneath.

Slipping out from underneath the table, she let out a pained whimper, “What’s with the racket? Honestly…”

As she stood up, leaning on the table for support, Kala glanced over at the door with a glare. The glare died in her eyes as they went wide with the sight of Joseph. He hung like a ragged coat over the shoulders and necks of two flock members. Muttered ramblings rested on his lips and a pale horror had smeared itself all over his face. They plopped him down on a chair, a whiff of seawater hit Kala as she approached him. The clothes he wore were not his own, just a tad too small and horribly mismatched. Kala cleared her throat, “What happened?”

“We got a summons from the sheriff’s office and-” one member started, but his words dropped dead to the floor when Joseph latched on to Kala, gripping her arm tightly.

“I’ve seen the Devil. Faced Him!” tense and rigid as iron, Joseph held it but for a moment before he slumped down into a deflated and dejected heap. Hushed mutters lingered, like a ghost’s breath, “Why oh why did God make the Devil so much stronger than man…?”

“Joseph…” Kala eased herself from his hands and put a hand on his forehead. “God, you’re burning up. Can anyone- fetch me that flashlight. Can anyone tell me what in God’s name happened?”

The members flinched at her snappy tone and jumped to action, yet slogging through the mire of hesitation was no easy task. While Kala checked Joseph as best she could with what little she had, one of the members took a deep breath and spilled the beans. Joseph had gone down to Paleto Bay to finally try his sailboat out. They’d tagged along to give him a hand before stocking up on supplies for the camp. As they were about to return to camp, the sheriff had called them over to the office. Apparently, Joseph had an accident with his boat, but just what they could not say. They’d investigate it of course, as soon as they got the boat out of the water. Given Joseph’s condition, they concluded that he was in no condition to explain what had happened. 

“Great… so we have to deal with the sheriff on top of everything else,” Kala rolled her eyes. “Wonderful, just wonderful.”

“I was saved…” Joseph muttered more or less to himself.

“Yes, yes, quite nice and lucky for you Joseph. Thank God you’re alright,” Kala said with a dismissive gesture of her hand. Turning her attention to the members, she said, “He’s fine as far as I can tell. Just… shaken. Give him something warm to drink or eat. Soup or something and then tuck him to bed.”

“God sent his angel to save me, it’s a sign Kala!” Everyone in the lab stopped dead in their tracks, eyes wide with amazement stared at Joseph. “She pulled me- pulled me from Satan’s jaw. His claws- those horrible claws. Though they caught my boat and pulled it down to Hell, they could not reach the sacred wings that carried me to safety.”

The members did the sign of the cross several times before clapping their hands knuckle white firm in prayer. Kala leaned down and asked, “Who… who saved you, Joseph?”

“Power Girl… no, such… such name is not- it does not capsule a fraction- a single feather! On her divine wings,” Joseph’s hands were shaking, but from what Kala could not tell. “Hear me Kala Kapur, and hear me well for that is our mistress… a Mistress of Might. This is God’s hand at work! We’re chosen! Chosen to follow her brave charge into the depths of Hell itself. It’s our destiny, the very meaning of our lives!”

Kala had Joseph returned to his bed not long after. Though she was alone in her lab and there was work to be done, Joseph’s words lingered to the point where she could get nothing done. Even staring a cup of tea proved to be too much of a chore. Joseph’s account in its fragmented delirium swelled and grew in her mind. She’d probably mulled it over well into the early hours of dawn had she not been interrupted. Chatter caught her attention and she let out a frustrated huff before hobbling over to the door to close it properly. No idle chit chat should distract her from these recent events. Just then, with a hand on the door handle, Kala heard what they were talking about. Her jaw clenched as well as her grip on the handle when she realized her mistake. The whole camp was talking about it, gossip spreading like burning gasoline and a single feather was rapidly turning into every bird known to time.

“Gather the flock!” she demanded as she flung open the door. There was a fury to her gait, her crutch jabbed and stabbed the dirt as she made her way to the main hall. Over her shoulder, she bellowed, “The Lord hath spoken, gather to hear His command!”

For the first time, Kala took to the stage alone. Words came out of her that danced on the edge of not being her own. They just rolled off her tongue like pearls, to the point where her mind had a hard time keeping up let alone staying ahead of the curve. As for her audience, despite it being late and quite a few had been kicked out of bed so they could attend, it didn’t take many minutes before they hung on her every word. Such was the vigor and intensity of Kala’s presentation. The testimony of flock members who’d brought Joseph back quickly strangled what little opposition there was.

Rabid, almost feverish Kala laid out the three basic themes to the flocks newly manifested destiny; The special virtues of the flock and their way of life within the confines of their camp. Their mission to redeem and remake the world in the image of the utopian kingdoms of the High Heavens. And an irresistible destiny to accomplish this essential and most sacred duty. Wiping sweat from her brow, she proclaimed that they were no longer Joseph’s flock, they’d be the First Sons of the new age that’d rise out of the ashes of the old. 

As one of God’s true prophets, Kala had been bestowed sacred knowledge that would help them prepare for the coming battle. She claimed that Satan had foreseen her place in God’s divine plan and sent a demon to slay her. That demon had almost succeeded, for it slaughtered all that stood in its way before the Mistress of Might drove it back to the shadowy depths of the sea. God’s hand had steered her away from the material temptation of the City of Man, though, in her ignorance, Kala had failed to see it. Even on the very doorstep to God’s house, she’d rejected Him and abandoned Him. Yet God never abandoned her, for He led her to Joseph. And thus, Kala insisted, a sacred alliance was forged.

Her throat sore, voice cracked and wavered, yet Kala persisted. Tonight’s attack was yet another attempt of Satan to disturb God’s plan. If the Devil could not strike down Kala because God had sent the Mistress of Might as her sacred guardian, the Devil would try to swallow Joseph whole. Just as with Jonah and the Whale. However, through the Mistress of Might, the will of God would not be denied and Joseph was saved. Kala would spend every waking minute to carry out God’s plan to the best of her ability. As for the First Sons? They’d raise walls to keep the jaws and claws of Satan’s minions away and devote their spare time to prayer. For only the pure would endure the devastating flames of Armageddon. To drive home the point of purity’s importance, Kala wrote on the blackboard behind her what she called The Altruist Mantra:

_ Youth _

_ Ban deceit _

_ Eat of the flesh _

_ Drink of the blood _

_ We shall be free once more _

_ Altruism _

_ The greatest good _

_ For the greatest generation _

_ We shall be born again _

_ She has come _

_ Hello seeker _

_ Hello finder _

_ We kneel before you _

_ We prostrate our continuing youth and vigor _

_ At this altar that has been sent to us _

_ Hello finder _

_ Prepare to be made pure _

_ Purity is everything _

_ Pure flesh _

_ Pure blood _

_ Purity is everything _

* * *

“Ah, Ms. Starr. What brings you down here?” Martin, the chief engineer greeted her with a friendly smile.

Karen looked around the engine room, “I was just thinking. This yacht came with some water jet skis, right?”

Martin wiped his hands with a tattered old rag, thinking for a moment. His grey and busy eyebrows trekked upwards, “Ah yes. Yes, yes. We have them here, stored by the stern.” 

He shuffled along, adjusting his orange overalls as he navigated through the engine room towards the stern with Karen just a few steps behind. This deep in the yacht there were no windows, only cold and sterile light from the ceiling illuminated their path. Soulless engines and barren metallic walls that only hosted instrument panels along with directions to the nearest exit didn’t do much to breathe life into the room. While the upper decks were spacious, decorated, and furnished with style and ascetics in mind, down here it was all a matter of practicality. At the stern several water jet skis hung on the walls, just next to shelves of scuba gear. Martin gestured at the equipment, “You've never used them. Fancy giving them a go?”

Karen frowned, “Not really. Are jet skis fun?”

“Well, uh,” he scratched the back of his grey hair, “I wouldn’t know Ms. Starr. Too old for that sort of thing, but uh, the younger folks seem to have a jolly good time with them.”

Arms folded across her chest, her vibrant blue eyes studying the jet skis, “I’m looking for something to do, just for laughs. Something to do together with Rose.”

“Ah, in that case, if I may?”

“Shoot.”

A nod of gratitude, “With regards to young Rose, I don’t think tumbling around in the ocean on a loud machine is what the doctor ordered. She's far too timid for something like this.”

“What about scuba diving? I don’t know the first thing about it, but neither does Rose. We could learn about it together.”

“It’s hardly the season for it,” Martin hesitated before he added, “and... do you even know how to swim, Ms. Starr?”

Her sideways glance had an annoyed edge to it, “No. But the way I see it, it could be a good thing. She keeps putting me on this gold-plated pedestal that’s frankly a little exhausting. When I look in the mirror, I don’t see half the woman she does.”

“Really now?” he chuckled lightly to himself, “But you seem so full of confidence more often than not.”

“Oh, I have no problem seeing myself at the top of Mount Everest. It's just that Rose puts me on the moon or in high orbit around Jupiter.”

Martin removed his glasses and held them up against the light. Giving them a gentle polish, he said, “Your heart is in the right place, Ms. Starr. But you and Rose are so different, she’s fragile and you’re sturdy. Now if it were me, I'd take her out on something of a more... leisure nature.”

“I just don’t want her to end up locked up in her cabin,” she nudged her head, motioning Martin to follow her. “She needs to get out, see the world, and meet people. Good people, not assholes.”

“In that case, might I be so bold as to recommend stargazing?” he held back a sneeze, sounding more like a cat than a human. “Back in my high school days, we had this club. It wasn’t much, but those long cold nights looking up at the stars, the moon, and the planets are some of my fondest memories.”

“How so?”

“Well, I met my wife there for one. And we just sat there, looking. Talking. Marvel at the beauty of it all. I believe these days they host something similar up at the Galileo Observatory.”

“I see... where is this observatory?”

“Ah, it’s not hard to miss. I'm sure you’ve seen it, resting high up in the Vinewood Hills with stunning views of the city. The Galileo Observatory was constructed at the end of the nineteenth century to make astronomy more accessible to the general public.” Martin shook his head and sighed, “but mostly now serves as a reminder of what little progress has been made in space exploration in the past forty years.”

A couple of phone calls later and making her case to Rose, Karen managed to get Rose to leave the yacht for the first time since the incident. As an extra layer of assurance, Karen wore her suit underneath her clothes and brought her cape along in her shoulder bag. It was highly unlikely, but in the event of some asshole started something or even if Rose just wanted to get away from it all in a hurry, Karen would be ready. Cliff was their chauffeur for the evening, another conscious decision from Karen to get Rose more comfortable around men again. Their car came to a soft stop in the parking lot just by the restrooms, “Is this okay Ms. Starr?”

“Yes, thank you, Cliff. You don’t mind waiting for us?”

“Not at all, Ms. Starr. Please enjoy yourselves.”

Taking Rose’s hand Karen said, “Come along Rose. Come along and you´ll see w hat it's like to be free.”

Only a few cars were scattered about on the parking lot. The calm of the evening had already settled down over the observatory. A waxing moon peeked from behind a cloud, its pale light intertwining with the streetlamps that dotted the walkways up to the observatory. Central in the open space in front of the main building stood a tall, lean monument of marble with a metal orb surrounded by three rings at the top. Spotlights on the ground licked the monument's surface with a chill light. Scattered along the sides of the main building were spotlights that shined on the building, casting its geometry in an almost mysterious wrapping of light and shadow. Karen dialed back on her usual confident stride, favoring a more leisurely stroll with Rose just a half a step behind, holding her hand. As they approached the main entrance, light chatter caught Karen’s ear. A reassuring smile, a light squeeze of the hand, “Come, Rose, this way.”

Circling around to the left side, Karen and Rose saw the Vinewood sign illuminated by spotlights, a sharp contrast to the dark night that had swallowed the hills. Far down below a small sea of city lights bloomed into view. Towering silhouettes of skyscrapers pierced up at the heavens, hundreds of little lights scattered over its surface. Rivers of light flowed along the streets of Los Santos, the hustle and bustle of the city just a faint mumble on the wind. Small talk, light and casual came from a small group of people that had huddled together near some tables and chairs. Greetings and laughter passed around along with hot drinks and snacks. Just above them rested the main dome of the observatory. A bellowing form that carved a hole among the starts that shimmered in the distance. One man took notice of the two and approached them, “Hello, hello. You here for the stargazing? Will Payton, pleased to meet you.”

Unshaven and balding, Will had a straightforwardness to him that reminded Karen of herself. There was a kind eagerness in his eyes that his neither his glasses nor the night could obscure. His build was neither here nor there, average in just about any regard. At least from what Karen could tell with just a glance. Even his clothes didn’t do much to help him stand out. Despite this, Rose shrunk back at his handshake, sliding a little more behind Karen’s strong frame. Before he noticed, Karen snatched his hand and gave it a firm shake. Flinching just a little, Will shifted his full attention to Karen, “Good evening. I’m Karen and this is my good friend Rose.”

“Karen, Rose,” Will nodded at them as he massaged his hand. “We’re just setting up the telescopes. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?”

“I’m good thanks. Rose?” She shook her head. Karen nudged her head at the dome, “We’re not going to be looking with the big ones?”

“Oh no, I’m afraid not,” he gave a light chuckle. “But don’t you worry, the ‘scopes we have will be more than enough.”

Karen and Rose mingled with the rest of the group for a few minutes while the last few telescopes were set up. While there was some progress made, Rose remained reserved and never said a word. Karen danced around the subject and never stayed long in any conversation. Just as the talking wheels got greased up and was gaining momentum, Karen felt a subtle squeeze in her hand and retreated from the group. Once the actual stargazing started in earnest, Will bloomed to life in ways that Karen had not quite expected. He remained straightforward, but now with a tiny edge to his eagerness. There was genuine excitement as he named the craters on the moon or explained the literal nuts and bolts of one of the telescopes. The many, for the lack of a better term, models of telescopes took Karen by surprise. They came in so many different shapes and proportions. Some even had stylish colors that made them stand out from their more mainstream white and black colored peers.

It took some nudging and words of encouragement, but once Karen got Rose to take a peek at the moon the expression on her face alone was worth it and then some. Her mouth made a silent wow before her whole face lit up with almost childish awe and wonder. For the first time in how many weeks, Karen heard her laugh. It was faint, a shy little giggle that barely held on to the edge of hearing. Like the silvery cling of a triangle, Rose’s laugh tickled her hears and she couldn’t help but smile. Looking up at the thousands of stars, shimmering cold and bright in the night sky Karen whispered more to herself, “Thank you…”


	16. Goodbye Old Friend

The early days just before New Year's Eve were dull and grey. A bloated carpet of pale grey clouds made a leisure stroll along with the barely noticeable wind. Even the ocean itself got muted in a shade of carbon grey, lulling up against the shore with a halfhearted effort. When Helena had called to let Karen know she was leaving, Karen’s tongue moved faster than her brain and she offered to see her off. For better or worse Helena accepted, though at the moment both women looked like they regretted their decision. An awkward silence with a generous dosage of uncomfortably stirred in for good measure had not only set up shop between them but was also hosting a sale. 

“So, I’m kind of curious,” Karen started. “Did you ever get to see Power Girl? Make her an offer she couldn’t refuse?”

Helena scoffed, “No. She’s notoriously hard to get in touch with. Spent most of my time bouncing between the military, FBI, and police. No one took any responsibility. It’s frustrating really, seeing your tax dollar wasted on people like that. And then! Then she flies off and picks up some no-name, cigar-puffing...!”

Karen looked at her old friend, a pained expression on her face, “You could have gone back home. For the holidays at least. Maybe come back if it was such a big deal.”

“Of course it’s a big deal, Karen. It’s Power Girl. With the right team she can be more bankable and iconic than anything Disney ever cooked up,” she drew in a deep breath. A hint of sadness could be seen in her eyes as she added, “Not much point going home. No one’s there.”

The car came to a brief stop. Metal gate rattled aside, opening a path to the airport track field. Dove white buildings slipped by the car window, large and indifferent to the staff milling around them. The track field though wide and vast was flat and barren. A ding from Helena’s purse prompted her to check her phone. Between her tapping and swiping, Karen stole a few longing glances. There was a melancholic veil covering her face as if Karen was attending someone’s funeral. An unspoken goodbye, unacknowledged by the other party, “Just- maybe you’d like to see your kid again if no one else.”

“No, not really. I’d have to do some explaining that I’d rather not.”

“What’s there to explain? You’re a mother spending time with her child.”

Shadows swallowed the car before it came to a soft stop inside a hangar. Outside the jet waited, b lack as a moonless night. A quick, faint smile lingered on Helena’s lips, “Remember that old joke the other kids used to say? Wayne is just a pretty word for a workaholic. The best jokes are funny because they touch some truth.”

“Helena…” Karen started, her words shriveled together as the car door opened and Helena stepped outside. 

She’d taken her first step in her usual business-like stride when she stopped and looked back. A flush crept up her face and for a moment Karen didn’t see Helena Wayne, lawyer of Wayne Enterprise. She saw her friend from those years back, who’d been faithful and patient by her side when even the magnets on the fridge were enough to scare her. Helena offered her hand, “Want to come with me? Back home?”

Karen leaned out and reached for the hand. Then her seatbelt locked her in place. A hand found the lock, fingers tasted it. Shaking her head, Karen looked back at Helena and said, “I’m so sorry but I…”

“Still a dreamer, huh?” When Karen couldn’t answer, Helena disappeared. All that remained was a lawyer who said, “Goodbye Karen.”

Karen forced a smile through tears shimmered in her eyes, “Bye.”

The car door closed with a dead thud. A silent beat. Karen sank down in her seat, quiet tears leaked out from underneath her tightly closed eyelids. Her firm jaw bit down on some unseen pain, face buried in hollow palms. Not a sound, not a single sob or whimper was allowed to escape. Just a shivering breath that sharply sucked in air, only for it to leak out on something less than a whisper. 

“Ma’am? Are you sure this is okay?” Captain Sato asked from the driver’s seat.

Karen nodded, though her mouth was twisted with agony and her nose was already running, “…yes. It just hurts. Starts and stone, it hurts. Take me, home captain. Please.”

“Yes ma’am.”

* * *

Power Girl gave the doorframe a couple of light knocks as she entered Max’s office. Much like the rest of the building, it had seen better days. Furniture was second hand and well used, the uneven parts of the floor were partially hidden under a washed out and worn carpet that didn’t match the furniture. On top of that, the floor creaked and complained in places as Power Girl made her way across. Promotional posters of third-rate and no-name celebrities, singers, and TV stars, for the most part, decorated the walls. Several of them were a product of their time, relics with a jarring aesthetic compared to what was hip and cool these days. Beams of sunlight poured in from the window, cut up into cubes by the gridded glass. In stark contrast to the rest of the room, Max’s desk was almost spotless. The one exception was an ashtray overstuffed with cigars.

“Ah, you’re here. Good, good. Please, have a seat,” Max got up and gestured at a free chair, the cigar trekking to the corner of his smile.

“How did your meeting with Helena Wayne go?”

He shuddered in his seat, “Not my fondest memory. Had I known she’d take it so badly; I’d insisted you’d be here in person. Some sense of protection would have gone a long way. For a moment I thought she’d throw me out the window.”

Power Girl nodded, “She’s a sore loser, but she’d never go that far.”

“Oh? You know her?”

She shifted in her seat and cleared her throat, “Only by reputation. You’ve talked with the FBI?”

Max nodded eagerly, leaning over to the side to pull out a thick file from a drawer in his desk, “They gave me a copy of a lot of things. Not everything, on account of national security, but I’m not complaining. This is more than enough to get me started.”

“You should also look up Sgt. Malcolm Lesperance over at the 13 th precinct,” she hooked her feet around the chair legs. “He’s- helped me out, covered a lot for me when I just started. Most of those cases are probably already in the FBI file, but…”

“Lesper- is there a C in there somewhere?” Max glanced up from his notebook, pen in one hand, cigar in the other.

“Uh-huh, C E at the end.”

He nodded and took a deep drag from his cigar. When he spoke, clouds of smoke billowed out from his mouth, “Okay. Good, good. Anyone else I should know about before we start?”

Power Girl  put her hands behind her head and  crossed her ankles in front of her , looking up at the ceiling. Spots of mold could be seen through the tobacco smudge that lingered over Max’s desk, “Eve Kanagy, who is an assistant district attorney and Katy Garriga, a public defender.”

“Friends or foes?”

“I’d like to say a little of both, but looking at them critically I’d say they lean a slightly more towards the foe side of the spectrum.”

Max tapped off his cigar over the tray, “Care to elaborate on that? I’d rather not go in blind and have another Helena situation.”

“Katy spends a couple of hours every week at the precinct house, interviewing officers and prisoners. She is committed to protecting a defendant’s civil rights, and her passion has earned her the respect of many of the precinct’s officers. Mine included.”

“If I were to take a guess, you’re not too keen on details like civil rights?”

She rested her chin on her palm, “Yeah, all I saw was the bad guys do something bad, so I brought them in – only to let them walk out the door with barely a slap on the wrist. Because of some minor thing I said or did, or didn’t. We clashed a few times. But at least she’s more of a friend than her counterpart in the District Attorney’s office.”

Max leaned back in his chair, making it creak and squeal, “Eve Kanagy… I remember seeing her on TV when she had her first case. That stunning conviction on largely circumstantial evidence. Her vicious questioning of an accused rapist caused the perpetrator to break down on the witness stand and scream his confession at the jury. I’d hate to be on her bad side. How did you manage that?”

“You see the thing with Eve is that she demands flawless police procedure in her cases. The omission of even the tiniest facts is seen as evidence of incompetence and corruption within the police force. A handful of officers have refused to work with Eve, even under threat of suspension or termination. Looking back, it’s a miracle the Crimson drug case even panned out.”

He lifted an eyebrow ,  “She… she took that case?”

Power Girl frowned and gave a dismissive wave of her hand, “The DA’s office rarely assigns her as a lead prosecutor in a case, instead of turning her abilities toward supporting more experienced or level-headed attorneys. That was my saving grace. It didn’t stop her from flogging me verbally at every chance she got.”

Max went poker-faced as he digested this information. Slow drags of his cigar only added to the mystery that was unfolding in his mind. After several minutes of pondering he said, “Most of this stuff is behind the scenes. The public doesn’t know, so I’d say our best option is to distract the public while we work to mend these relationships.”

“If you say we’re going to distract the public with tits and ass, I’m flying out of here. Through the window.”

He shook his head with a semi disgusted expression, “No, no… though a different design on your… uh, uniform? It’d help.”

“The suit stays Max,” Power Girl’s tone left no room for negotiation.

“Mind if I ask why?”

“It belonged to my mom.”

Max nodded, intrigued by this new information, “Okay. Good, good. We could spin that for some sort of sentimental angle if it ever comes to that.”

“Why?”

“The thing is if we don’t feed the media, they’ll start digging around. It’s inevitable, even if we keep them happily fed. When that time comes, this bad stuff right here? It’ll be buried under layers of goodwill.”

Power Girl nodded, “I see. There’ll be a net positive, so they’re more likely to forgive and forget the bad stuff. Okay, what’s our strategy?”

“Step one; good, solid police work. Cash in those checks of justice, but do it right. By the numbers, by the book,” Max started counting on his fingers. “It’ll be in the backburner so it’s a long-term thing that won’t pay off right away, but neglect it, and this kind of dirt will unravel everything. Step two, some more public appearances. I’m thinking of charity events, things like that.”

She raised a hand to object, “I’m not going on camera Max.”

“Why not?” he flinched slightly at her objection.

She shook her head, “I just won’t okay? Can you work with that?”

Max scratched his chin, “Alright… we’re already ice skating up a frozen waterfall. Uhm… word of mouth from the right people could work, but it takes a lot of doing…”

“I’ll leave it to you, Max.”

After a deep drag from his cigar Max smothered it in the tray, “If we do it like this, I want you to know that beggars can’t be choosers. Deal?”

“Deal,” she offered a handshake.

“Good, good.”

* * *

Recent hardware upgrades had made the encoding of videos from Kara’s bracers more reliable. The success rate was higher and the results were for the most part watchable. That being said, all the videos should still come with a stern epilepsy warning. Other issues also plagued the videos, such as audio volume, quality, and synchronization. Despite these issues, Kara tried to get an hour a day just watching the videos, sometimes only listening to the audio feed so she could learn to speak her native tongue. It had been a long road to travel with plenty of steep hills coming out of nowhere so progress was slow. There had been no shortage on tongue twisters and Kara found herself articulating at half the speed of snails just to get a taste of the words. One of the first things she learned was counting, so as part of her workout routine, she did all her counting in Kryptonian. 

Kara had tried her hand at creating a program to identify the sounds and match them with words from her self-made dictionary, but the audio quality was so inconsistent and sometimes so poor that she had to shelve the project. At least until the encoding process was better. For now, she’d just have to sit through and listen. It worked somewhat assuming Kara was given time to pause and rewind as she saw fit. With headphones firmly in place, Kara sat by her desk, finger on the space bar ready to pause at a moment's notice. Rewind a handful of seconds, resume play. Rinse and repeat. Mixing a protein shake, Kara glanced at the clock on her screen. Power Girl’s shift was still a couple of hours away. To be on the safe side she set an alarm. Getting so engaged in solving these Kryptonian puzzles made her lose track of time and space. With Power Girl back on duty and Karen Starr back at the office, she didn’t really have the luxury of time anymore.

A voice spoke in the headphones which made Kara flinch. The protein shake got caught in the wrong hole and she coughed hard. Blinking away early tears Kara rewound the video and listened again. The volume got adjusted and she pressed the phones closer to her ears, “We’ll now start the- court? Trials? Of something-something Zor-L.”

She inhaled and exhaled deeply a few times. Fingernails found her teeth, scraping against one another. Her eyes went from the computer screen to the door and back again, “Alright, let’s take a look.”

The video window popped up and filled the whole screen. It showed a great hall, nine people were seated in a wide arc, facing two people in the center. Someone off-camera read through some legal protocol that Kara struggled to follow as it contained lingo and words that she was unfamiliar with. Though the gist of it was the two people at the center had done bad things and were to be judged by the conclave. Presumably, that would be the nine others. There were no guards in the court, at least not what was visible on the camera. Kara fiddled with the audio settings, straining her ears.

“You swore, sinew and soul, to serve Rao and the Conclave. For years you built a life upon Faith, only to smite it asunder with one sinful blow,” someone who appeared to be the leader of the conclave spoke with a booming voice that echoed through the majestic hall. “What say you to the charges, Zor-L?”

Zor-L stood tall and proud, chin raised as he spoke with a clear tone, “They’re true, sire.”

“Zor-L, old friend…” another member of the Conclave, an elderly woman asked, “why?”

“Blind Faith offers no shelter for the doom that comes.”

“We offered you truth yet you still clasped your superstitious lies,” the leader scoffed. “We offered you service, yet you wasted your strength in defiance.”

“Lies? Lies?! I speak the truth! The truth of our ancestors!” Zor-L lunged forward only to be yanked back by the shackles that bound him to the floor. “They saw the doom coming. It is you, rotten corpses sitting on shattered thrones, that will damn us all because you refuse to act!”

“Enough!” the conclave leader hit something on the desk in front of him, sending a loud bell-like sound through the hall. Silence sank down on the hall. Nevertheless, Zor-L trembled with contempt. Regaining his composure, the conclave leader turned his attention to the woman standing next to Zor-L, “Allura Zor-L, what say you to the charges?”

“They’re true, sire,” though soft and tender in voice, one would have to be blind and stupid not to see the inner strength Allura carried with her. No human royalty could ever hope to hold a candle to her.

The Conclave leader raked his fingers through his hair , a grumble trembled at the back of his throat, “Why do the keen of mind seek to satiate their curiosity in darkness and depravity?”

“Sometimes darkness can show you the light,” Allura said without missing a beat.

Another member of the Conclave spoke up, “Swift and silent you stole the bounty the forbidden records. A crow that plunders our crops. A stray dog that slaughters our sheep. Kandor is a land of men, not animals. Think about that, Allura Zor-L, when the wastelands show you how to truly live like an animal.”

Zor-L’s eyes went wide, “You dare?! Are your precious texts worth more than an unborn child?! If you deny my truth, at least acknowledge Allura’s!”

The leader of the Conclave raised a hand with chilling determination, “Innocence is our Father, Krypton is our Mother. When a daughter strays from Rao’s light, she makes herself an orphan.”

“Spare me your venom dipped lectures,” Zor-L’s head sank down. When he looked up tears were trekking down his cheeks and his voice came out at a shriek. Plea and rage intertwined in a duet that pierced Kara’s ears, “Krypton is dead! The sands of time slow down for no one, not even Rao.” 

The whole conclave lit up at those words, gasping and pointing accusing fingers, “Hersey!”

“The cycle continues. They knew… they knew! And tried to flee, escape our doom! Can’t you see it?! Our survival- our salvation lies not in your texts! Beyond the stars… it’s all we have left,” Zor-L’s speech died down to a whimper.

Save Zor-L’s quiet sobs, the grand hall sank into silence. Allura remained steadfast by her husband’s side, a bastion that refused to bow or be swayed no matter how much the surrounding storm howled at her. Kara herself was on the edge of her seat, a hand clasped over her mouth and hanging on every word. She was so fixated on the screen that blinking was a price that was almost too high for comfort. Breathing only cut into the words that were spoken. She inhaled deeply when the leader of the Conclave spoke once more, “And is that not the greatest folly of all? To lose faith when it's all you have left? You were once the chosen of Rao. A Templar. You are now the chosen of wastelands. An Exile.”

Again, the hollow bell rang through the hall and guards stepped in with a rigid ceremony to take the guilty away. Unbound from the floor, Zor-L looked over his shoulder and said something so faint Kara had to rewind and crank the volume to the top to catch it, “Why have you forsaken me, brother?”

A man on the Conclave shifted restlessly on in his seat, “I did not forsake you, for you are not my brother. The House of L has disowned you. Guards, strip them of the insignia of my House before casting them away.”

With a swift strike behind the knee from the guards, both Allura and Zor-L were brought to their knees. Held firmly in place by a pair of guards, a third guard cut off the family insignia that they wore on their chests. Zor-L struggled to get back on his feet, fuming and growling almost like a wild animal, “ Prepare yourself for a reckoning! For your world will crumble again! And you,  _ brother _ ! Don't let hope to become a memory!” 

Kara pulled off the headphones and hurled them out of the office, smashing them into a dozen pieces against the wall. She shrunk back in her chair, hugging her legs close. The sobbing refused to stop. Piercing pain from her own fingernails digging into her arms did nothing to ease the pain that was inside. Through a thick cloud of tears, she spotted someone their words a hushed whisper. A  distraught question seemed to repeat itself, but Kara couldn’t hear it over her own cries. Arms found her, pulled her into a tender embrace. Gentle fingers stroked through her hair, a gentle soothing motion. Rose’s warmth started to seep into Kara’s chilled core and her sobs died down. Her words dripped slowly but surely into Kara’s mind, “There, there. It’s alright… I- I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s over now Ms. Starr. It’s over.”

* * *

Purple pink clouds formed a fluffy carpet across the sky, basking in the last hour or so of sunlight. Birds, reduced to caviar black shadows, coasted on the sea breeze. Below the Chumash pier Lucy heard the constant and steady arrival of the sea, its shallow waves licked and wrapped themselves around the legs of the pier as they pressed onwards towards the shore. Muttered cussing tickled over the sea, coming from around the corner of the café that stood at the far end of the pier. Apparently, the crane that lowered and raised a boat refused to cooperate, though whether the fault lied with the mechanic or the crane itself was hard to tell. He didn’t sound like the sharpest knife in the shelf, but then again it was hard to make such judgments when one had so little to go on. 

Lucy tucked her hands inside the front pocket of her hoodie, the worn wood the bench she sat on scraped against her washed-out jeans. As tempting as it was to check what time it was, it’d be better if she just sat still and did nothing. There was nothing to see here, just a lonesome lady taking in the sunset by the pier. She sniffed to keep her nose from dripping, the smell of the sea mixed with something else that Lucy couldn’t quite place. Whatever it was, it wasn’t pleasant in and of itself and the salty sea smell didn’t really improve it either. The sound of footsteps on the pier caught her ear. She couldn’t see who was approaching with her hood up, so Lucy rolled and massaged the back of her neck in the hope of stealing a quick glance. Her luck did not pan out, not as much as the hint of a shadow. Whomever it was, the person sat down on the bench back to hers. The lights along the rail of the pier lit up and the person spoke up, a deep voice of a woman, “Sorry I’m late. Traffic.”

“Steve couldn’t make it?”

“I read your report,” the woman said ignoring Lucy’s question. “There’s a change in plans.”

“Okay. I take it that you’ll listen to my recommendation then?”

The bench creaked and there was a rustling of clothes, “No.”

Lucy’s jaw dropped and she half turned before she caught herself, slumping back in her seat, “Listen to me, they’re… they’re really ramping up the doomsday narrative. If you let this fester much longer, we’ll have a bloodbath on our hands. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you,” there was a calm, indifferent tone to the woman’s voice. 

“Then why? Why are we- what are we waiting for?” one of her feet started bouncing in place. “Joseph is sick after his boating accident, so it’s unlikely he’ll be able to slip away if we spring them now. And we have evidence that this was indeed the gang that broke into UCLA on New Year’s Eve.”

“Dr. Kapur is still among their ranks, yes?”

Lucy exhaled and looked up at the sky, “Yes. Yes, she is. She’s… been gaining influence, power over the group ever since Joseph had his accident. Why?”

“Is she continuing her work?”

“Can’t say for sure, but I think so. She must be doing something for all those hours we don’t see her. and I doubt she spends them on her knees, trying to score points for the afterlife,”  Lucy rubbed her hands on her thighs.

“I want you to secure and document Dr. Kapur’s work.”

“What? Excuse me?” she glanced over her shoulder, though the hood still obscured her view of the woman. “I’d like to hear why we’re stalling multiple arrests for the sake of some half-cooked pseudoscience.”

“I operate on a strict need to know basis agent. All you need to know is that Dr. Kapur’s research takes priority over arresting Joseph Bertrand and his associates.”

Lucy gave a bitter laugh, shaking her head, “Didn’t know that the ATF was so keen on a sloppy science project. Are you even with the ATF?”

“No.”

“Mind telling me who I’m dealing with?”

There was a pause. A seagull cried overhead, bidding the sun goodbye or perhaps greeting the first star on the fresh night sky. Lucy licked her lips, looking up and down the length of the pier. As far as she could tell they were alone. Even the grumpy boat mechanic had long since given up on the stubborn crane and gone back inside the café. The woman sighed and shifted her weight on the bench before she said, “Homeland Security.”

“Wow. Okay.”

“Secure and document everything agent Kuo, is that clear?”

She scoffed, “Listen, about that. I’m not that… into the group. The doctor is like the inner circle and- I’m not a member, to put it bluntly.”

“Then get close to her,” there was an impatient edge to the woman’s voice, sharp and hot to the ear.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just arrest them now and secure the research that way?”

“For the last time agent Kuo, can you get it done, or do I need to have someone else do it? Are you really that incompetent?”

Lucy flinched at the unexpected outburst. Like the threads holding together a mother’s patience snapped one by one, Lucy blurted out in a kneejerk reaction to keep it all from unraveling, “Yes. Yes, of course, you can count on me, ma’am.”

“Good,” the approving tone cuddled itself up a growing calm. “Then get to it agent.”


	17. System Breached

Karen's high heels click-clacked on the sidewalk as the early stages of Los Santos rush hour started to clog up the roads. A sigh of relief escaped her as soon as the backdoor in her car closed, shutting out the noisy traffic. Loosening up her tie, she gave Rose who was seated next to her a quick little wink, “Cliff, could you take us to the observatory please?”

“Right away Ms. Starr.”

Due to traffic, the drive from StarrWARE up to the observatory was long and slow. Not that Rose seemed to mind. The combination of therapy sessions and astronomy club activities had helped Rose make strides towards her old self. Although she was reluctant to attend the club on her own, Karen saw it as welcome progress and found her chats with Will about astronomy educational. In due time when Rose was comfortable and ready, Karen intended to let her stand on her own two feet. For now, she just listened to Rose’s words tumble over themselves with childish excitement. Even if she didn’t choose to pursue astronomy as a career, it wasn’t the worst hobby to have on the side. 

“Rose. Karen,” Will greeted them with a friendly smile and a subtle nod. “So glad you could join us today.”

“We’re, uhm, not late, are we?”

“No Rose, you’re not. I expect people to drip in due to traffic, so don’t worry about it.”

Will had never really asked about what their story was. Why Rose stuck by Karen’s side on any and all occasions. Never questioned her timid nature. Not once had he reacted to Rose pulling away from other members, opting out of the simple conversation to the point of being rude. Instead, he’d picked up on the clues, understood unspoken rules, and adhered to them. It's possible that he’d smoothed things out behind the scenes with the other members as awkward moments stopped being a thing by their fourth meeting. While no expert on the subject, Karen gave Will’s quiet, kind and understanding nature a great deal of credit for Rose’s recovery.

Far out on the western horizon, only a veil of the purple sky remained of the sun. The a zure blue sky of the day had shifted to a deep, dark blue with the first stars twinkling into view. Other members of the club came by little by little, greetings exchanged and small talk filled the air. In-between coffee cups and snacks, telescopes got set up and pointed towards the skies. Rose settled in, peering over at the Crab Nebula while Karen and Will chatted. The two of them had hit it off quite well as Karen expressed interest in making an astronomy-related app and Will was more than happy to answer her questions. It was in fact a bit of a challenge to get him to stop talking since he’d easily hop from the initial answer to different subjects. 

“And before I forget,” Will rummaged through the pockets of his oversized jacket. “Here you go Karen; I checked your equations for you together with some of my coworkers. Math almost checked out.”

“Almost? Let me see, what did I miss?” Karen flipped through the papers. “Lorentz transformations... yeah, I was just guessing. Special relativity is something else.”

“You know you don’t have to solve them, right? Just put in the answers into your trivia app. Focus on, I don’t know, debugging code.”

Karen gave him a playful nudge, “You’re not the boss of me. Besides, it’s fun. A nice change of pace from debugging code.”

“Wrestling with special relativity is a nice change of pace,” Will shook his head with a skeptical yet amused expression. “Can’t say I’ve heard that one before.”

Karen shrugged, “The way I see it, it doesn’t hurt to stretch your legs and dip your toes into other pools every now and then.”

A silent minute came and went before he sighed while looking up at the stars, “Stretching your legs, huh?”

“Something on your mind Will?”

He frowned and gave a dismissive wave, “Nah, it’s nothing.”

“Okay then.”

“It’s just that...” he paused, collecting his thoughts, “You can be an astronomer who works at a college or you can be an eminent astronomer who is well known throughout the science world. For many astronomers, it is typically the latter. But this can only be done by expanding your horizons beyond the classroom or annual research endeavors.”

She nodded, “You mentioned that you took over this club for one of your coworkers. Do you... feel left behind, perhaps?”

“A little, yeah. Kinda ironic, don’t you think?” he leaned back to get a better view of the night sky. “There’s so much out there and here I am. Always been. Never bit the bullet. Too scared I guess.”

“Look Will, I think,” Karen started with a pat on his shoulder, “you’re selling yourself a little too short. Science is cool again, so you could build a portfolio of articles, essays, blog posts, and even get a book or two under your belt.”

“True, we do have an extra-terrestrial literarily flying around. But last time I checked; she’s not talking. We can’t even look at her craft. Something about national security,” he shook his head. “Just thinking about it makes my blood boil.”

“Keep your eyes peeled Will, you never know,” Karen shrugged. “One of these days she might suddenly decide to talk.”

Will scoffed at her and smiled, “Yeah right. That'd be something, huh?”

A couple of minutes of silence came and went. The two of them retreated towards the coffee table when Karen asked, “If, just hypothetically, she did… would you take it? A step into the unknown?”

He helped himself to some coffee and offered a cup to Karen. Cute habit, always thinking of people around him. A bit of a scatterbrain perhaps since he keeps forgetting she doesn’t drink. Or maybe it’s just muscle memory that prompts him to offer what he has to others. Be it a cup of coffee, a telescope or trivia about the cosmos. Regardless Karen declined with a polite smile. The steam fogged up his glasses, it teased out a goofy smile from him before he admitted, “I don’t know. Smarter people than me would probably be a better choice.”

The corner of her mouth quirked up, “Brains are one thing. The heart is a different matter.”

“Yeah… one is a complex computer, the other is just a pump.”

Karen was about to object, but it died on her lips, “Technically the truth.”

“That’s the best kind,” Will gave a subtle toast in her direction.

“Looking at them Will,” she took in the sight of the night sky in all its shimmering brilliance. “Which one do you think is hers? Wouldn’t you like to find out? If anything, that’d certainly put you on the map. A discovery for the history books.”

He joined her simple stargazing, coffee cup in hand and a melancholic sense of wonder on his face. His eyes welled up, “I wonder. Sometimes I wonder what stars did she see back home? What was her night sky like? Does she miss it?”

“I don’t know Will. I don’t know.”

* * *

The air was hot, dry, and almost perfectly still above Great Ocean Highway where Power Girl was currently patrolling. A passing glance over at Procopio Beach didn’t reveal anything of interest, just a small family walking their dog. Down below traffic was flowing along smoothly and so far, it had been a rather uneventful shift. To pass time as she made her rounds along the highway towards the Braddock Pass, Power Girl pulled up some of her Kryptonian files by remote connecting to the StarrWARE servers using her bracers. Just then her earpiece crackled to life and dispatch in its usual high speed, no-nonsense professional tone said, “Any available unit in the area of Zancudo Grande Valley, Zancudo Barranca and Great Chaparral, respond to a metro transit police call, a ten-thirty-one.” 

“Unspecified disturbance?” she pivoted in midair to get her bearings. From here she’d have to go over Mount Chiliad, cross the Alamo Sea, and the Grand Senora Desert. Power Girl smiled to herself, there were a thrill and rush to taking such a route at high speed. 

Just before she was about to respond and kick into overdrive, another unit responded to the call. Pouting, Power Girl turned back to her files. To add insult to injury they didn’t load properly as her connection kept dropping out due to the surrounding mountains. Throttling up, Power Girl speared ahead fast enough to give a high-end superbike a good run for its money until her signal was crisp and clear. However, even with a near-ideal signal, it didn’t take long before she noticed something else was off. The system in general was soggy and unresponsive to her commands, “Odd… what’s going here? Let me see, this looks good and-”

The color for her face drained as she brought up a detailed log of network activity. To say that it was on fire was an understatement. Her fingers trembled over the textured display for a fleeting moment before they leaped into action. Snapping, tapping, and almost biting at the display like a pack of angry vipers Power Girl’s fingers danced with speed and precision to shut it down. Everything she could shut down from where she was, she did. As soon as she’d tapped away the last annoying are you sure you wish to close confirmation message, her jaw clenched and she whirled around and punched through the sound barrier as she headed straight for StarrWARE.

* * *

“Nico,” Karen snapped her fingers right in front of his face, jerking him out of whatever train of thought he was currently riding, “laptop, office. Now.”

As he dumped his thoughts and collected his things he said, “Ms. Starr? I- uh- were you supposed to be in today?”

“Something came up. Close the door.”

Nico sank down in his seat opposite of Karen, “Okay. By the sound of it, it must be serious.”

“Someone is snooping around in our system. And I don’t like it,” there was simmering anger to her voice while her fingers jabbed at the keyboard. Executing the final command with a sharp snap, Karen turned the laptop around so Nico could see. “Who is this? One of ours? Why is he stomping around in my system?”

“I... uh, which server is this?” he adjusted his glasses, frowning at the screen. “This is the computer you have on your yacht. That's fine. And you’ve logged on with VPN... what were you accessing? And what- did you remote into your own computer?”

“Stars and stone. This, this is the deep learning machine. That’s what I was accessing.”

“Ms. Starr, calm down. We'll sort it out,” he kneaded his shoulder. “Right. So, since it’s remote there’s a chance he got to your computer and then piggy-backed into the company systems once the VPN got established.”

By now Karen wasn’t seated. Instead, she paced around the room, nibbling at a fingernail. So much had been going on lately that it was getting harder and harder to keep track. Getting injured, recovering, and making piss poor relationship decisions. Unraveling a past lost in a hazy fog of amnesia. Keeping a company afloat while at the same time burning through a lot of money to get a human and alien tech to talk to one another. Helena and Power Girl’s public relations. Every issue left a bloated, stinking mess many times nastier than what it initially was. Truth be told, it was a lot like vomiting; not all that pleasant then and there as you emptied your guts, but the real killer was the after taste and how drained you were afterward.

“What can we do, Nico?”

“The easiest thing is what you’ve already done, shut down the link. Though he could already have established a backdoor directly to the storage server, depending on how long-” Nico stopped talking as Karen stormed out of the room, heading straight for the server room. 

A few minutes later she returned, “Everything’s unplugged. I'll collect the server later.”

“You’re... taking the server with you?”

“Yup.”

“Where?”

“I don’t see any reason to tell you.”

Nico licked his lips, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before he said, “Ms. Starr, what’s on that server? Why would you go as far as to physically remove-?”

“Nico. Shut up. All you need to know is that what’s on that server is priceless as far as I'm concerned. Look carefully over those logs and tell me, did they get anything? And if they did, where are they?”

To say that Nico was taken aback by Karen’s behavior was an understatement. Nevertheless, he went diligently to work. As the minutes dragged on, pooling together to form one hour, with Karen shooing away anyone who came by. Whether they needed to chat with Karen or Nico was irrelevant, they were not to be disturbed until this mess was sorted out. When Nico finally was ready to deliver his conclusion, she took in a sharp breath and said, “Okay. Give it to me straight.”

“They got a lot,” he turned the laptop around and showed a troubling long list of files that had been dragged over the network and into the depths of cyberspace. “Funny thing is, it’s just junk as far as I can tell. I've never seen anything-”

“Nico...” Karen’s fingers had punctured through the leather chair and it appeared that even the metal frame underneath the foam rubber had been distorted. “Can you see where these files went?”

“Uh, no. Sorry. We don’t have anything like that. This guy, whoever he is, knows his stuff.”

The chair clattered against the floor, pieces of torn foam rubber bleeding out from its holes. Karen paced around the room like an aggravated great cat. Hands rubbed down her face, gurgled groans of frustration slapped and scraped at the glass walls of the office. Insults came next, hurling out to give herself a verbal flogging. Karen had screwed up, badly at that. She deserved to be called every name in the book. Confronted with her reflection on the office glass wall, her hands curled into fists. Nothing came from it, just a disappointed sigh as she glared at her own incompetence. With her temper still sizzling she asked, “Okay look… what do you need to find this son of a bitch?”

Nico mulled it over for a few minutes. Removing his glasses, Nico pinched the bridge of his nose and said, “I need to look at the flow and packet data. Setting up a mirror port at the network core will let me capture any traffic coming and going both from the internet and important servers. The issue is that we don’t have much historic metadata. It got deleted to save storage space. And money.”

“And it’ll take some time to build.”

He nodded, “That’s right. So, time, storage space, and money are what I need. And bait.”

Karen ran her fingers through her blonde hair, giving it a light frustrated tug as she said, “Alright. Get to it Nico, make it your number one priority. I’ll arrange some storage space for you and see if I can find a suitable bait.”

* * *

“I have an eight-inch telescope. Want to come over, have some dinner and drinks... look at the stars?”

The cellphone almost slipped from Karen’s hand at Will’s unexpected invitation. Her smile paved the way for a warm and contagious laugh with some light apologies dripping through, “I’m sorry Will, I don’t mean to laugh, I really don’t. Look, uh, I...” her office chair creaked as she leaned back for a better view down towards the hallway. As appealing as it sounded, Karen hesitated since doing something at the drop of a hat didn’t sit too well with Rose. It’d be a good chance to recruit Will’s help making sense of the star map data she’d found. Try as she might, the math was simply too hard for Karen to make sense of. Even if she’d fished out some clues and hints from Will during their small talk, Karen had only made minimal progress. Plus, at some point, Rose would need to reclaim her independence and be her own woman instead of constantly clutching to Karen’s cape. 

“I’m sorry Karen. If I was out of line-”

“No. No, not at all. I'd love to come over. Just dinner, right?”

A faint sigh of relief tickled across the phone, “Yeah. Just dinner. See you at seven?”

“Okay- oh, hang on. What's, what’s your address? Let me just get a pen and see if I also have something to write on.”

After explaining the plans for the evening to Rose, she helped Karen get ready. Hair got trimmed, legs and armpits shaved and to top it all off Karen went all out with the make-up. The two women had quite a laugh about it as Karen gave Rose some pointers on how to best apply the make-up. When it came to picking a dress for the evening, Karen entrusted the decision to Rose. If anything, it was another small step in building up Rose’s confidence. She still needed to be assured that her voice and opinion had merit and was worth listening to. After rummaging through Karen’s wardrobe, dresses, blouses, and jeans scattered over the bed Rose first suggested a black jumpsuit that Karen had forgotten she even had. She argued that something might happen and Power Girl could be needed, so with this Karen could wear her other suit underneath. However, Karen pointed out that she’d just drained her energy reserves so there’d be no flying or other heroics for that matter. In the end, Rose settled for an oversized sweater, a pair of Ponte pants, and loafers.

Will lived in The Royale, an apartment building located on 1051 Spanish Avenue and San Vitus Boulevard in West Vinewood, Los Santos. When she arrived, he was already flustered, apologizing for rushing her in the door. Apparently, the salmon dish they were having was at a curtail stage so he hurried back to the kitchen all while encouraging her to settle down. The apartment was simple, plenty for someone single. An L shaped sofa folded around a coffee table, facing the wall-mounted TV which was surrounded by shelves. Just left to the living room were the kitchen and dining room, though neither was separated by a door. Instead, the apartment had opted for an open layout. There was even an opening in the wall between the kitchen and dining room, so the kitchen counter made for a simple bar. Most of the wall on the right-hand side of the sofa was sliding doors for the balcony. 

Between the sizzling fish and light small talk about traffic and weather, Karen strolled through the living room, taking in the many books and pictures that rested on the large wall section opposite the TV. Unsurprisingly the shelves were dominated by books on astronomy and related scientific subjects. Pictures showed Will graduating from school and fooling around like a little kid, along with what Karen assumed were coworkers or friends. Neatly tucked away in a corner stood a telescope, all eight inches. He offered her a glass of white wine, “Here you go. Hope it’s to your liking. Don't know much about wine I'm afraid.”

“That makes us two,” she took a sip. “Well... it’s wine and it’s white. Should we get seated or?”

“Ah not yet, potatoes aren’t quite done yet. Give them another minute or so. See anything interesting?” he tucked a bit on the collar of his shirt before smoothing down his apron. Although a simple white shirt, Karen could tell that it was of a finer quality than your average work shirt. 

“Well, I really liked this picture here. Never quite pictured you with a grunge look,” a carefully polished nail tapped a picture. 

Will scoffed, an embarrassed smile crossed his face, “Yeah, got caught up in the Nirvana hype. Those were the days.”

“Ever seen them live?”

He nodded and headed back to the kitchen, “Me and my dad. We saw them on the MTV Unplugged back in... oh, was it ninety-three? Boy, time does fly.”

Karen glanced at the photos again. Aside from Will, there was another man that was recurring in many of the photos. There wasn’t much of a resemblance between the two, but the age gap suggested family relations, “Looks like you and your dad were close.”

“Best of pals. We only had each other after mom left.”

She stopped by the dinner table, her glass made a soft clink as it settled down, “Oh. I'm sorry. Did she pass away?”

Will shook his head and waved his hand dismissively. Whether it was to get the fumes out of his face or if he was shooing some unpleasant memory away was hard to tell, “No, no. They split up. Turns out she had an affair, a whole other life outside of me and dad. Uh, let’s see, where did I? Oh, could you light the candles please?”

“Sure,” without thinking Karen locked in on the top of the candles and squinted her eyes. When nothing happened, she peered over her shoulder to make sure Will hadn’t noticed. Thankfully he was busy with the potatoes, so Karen snatched the box of matches on the kitchen counter. 

Coming around with two dinner plates, Will chuckled as he saw Karen struggle with the matches, “I can tell you’re not and never been a smoker.”

“Oh shush. If I could just- these are the weakest matches I've ever... look, look at this. They snap for nothing.”

His hand folded over hers, “Allow me.”

The candles got lit, potatoes were near-perfectly boiled and the salad had turned out surprisingly well according to Will. Rich spices brought plenty of flavor to the salmon while the salad mellowed off the sharpest edges. Neither of them could really comment on the wine, but it was white so at least that part fit with the dish. During the course of their meal Will carried on talking about his family. The divorce had been hard on his dad as if someone had snuffed out a fireplace and all that was left was ash, sot, and embers. Consequently, Will never dared to leave his dad’s side. At least not until he’d bounce back. However, that day never came and before he knew it Will had gotten stuck in this routine that had been years in the making. Even now, a few years after his dad’s passing, there were these invisible chains that shackled him. He poked his dessert bowl, “Anyway he was a great man. Taught me everything I know, give or take a few things.”

“What about your mom? Do you see her?”

He shook his head, a hint of a disgusted look could be seen on his face, “No. The way she lied to me and dad. To have a double life like that. I want nothing to do with that woman.”

“I see... so, uhm, dishes?”

“Hmm? Oh. Oh yeah. Just let me- uh, no, no, please sit. I'll get this sorted,” Will’s lack of routine made it clear that it wasn’t often that he had guests over, let alone lady guests. There was something admirable about it though. Trying as best as he could, even if he wasn’t particularly good at it. Her glass rocked around in her palm; Karen had a soft smile of affection on her deep red lips. 

“I’m curious Will, just how did you get into astronomy?”

The clattering of dishes and running water stopped, “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Look, I’m down three glasses of wine. At this point I'll probably snort like a pig, excuse myself to the bathroom to strangle my laugh, and apologize afterward.”

“Way back before I was born, dad saw 2001: A Space Odyssey in the theatre. Apparently, it floored him so much that he picked up astronomy as a hobby. Then I came along and... well, the rest is  history,” he rested against the wall while wiping his hands dry on the apron. A smile, one painted with a sad nostalgia crossed his lips. “Funny how some of our best moments together were under the stars. Both of us wanted to just get away from her. So, we looked to the stars for a way out.”

Armed with blankets, fold-up chairs, and a thermos with hot soup, the two of them headed for the roof for the grand finale. Since they were smack in the middle of the city the surrounding light pollution hid away most of the stars. Even the iconic Milky way galaxy center was lost. That said, they made the best with what they had and looked at the moon as well as Mars. Their conversations died down to the point where they just sat there, enjoying each other's company while looking at the heavens. With the last cup of hot soup empty, Karen drew a deep breath and asked, “Will would you be interested in finding Power Girl’s home?”

He blinked at her with a blank expression, “I’m sorry what? Power Girl? What- why would?”

"Would you?”

Will was at a loss for words. The best he could muster was a flabbergasted look before laughter caught him to the point that tears started dripping. Finally, after a couple of long and loud minutes, he said, “Well no. It'd be scary as all hell with the whole world looking over my shoulder. For me, that’d be impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible, the word itself says 'I'm possible',” her dead serious eyes locked in on his that was still wet from tears. “What if it was just you, chipping at the data without the world knowing?”

“Uh, yeah? Maybe. I suppose, but Karen... she’s not just going to fly in through my bedroom window and drop a, a dozen hard drives with astrological data onto my bed,” his goofy smile withered away as Karen maintained her rigid and serious composure. “Is she...?”

“Look Will, I’ll be honest with you,” she took a deep breath and let it out with a puff. “You’re a great guy. I'd like to work with you on this. I've been headhunted for this project just as you are now. If you’re up for it, I can put in a good word for you.”

A moment of truth. Will took her offer into consideration. Eyes searching, up high and down low. With no answer readily available he got out of his chair and paced around, muttering under his breath. A few times he stopped and looked at Karen, a reply of sorts ready only to discard it and start over again. Finally, after a good twenty minutes of pacing, muttering and a solo discussion he asked, “Do you have to know now?”


	18. February 14th

“Hey, Abel!” Lucy blocked out the sun with one hand while waving for Abel’s attention with the other.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Abel leaned on the rails in the guard tower, a hunting rifle hanging over his shoulder. “Been a while, Lucy. Thought you’d dropped out on us. What’s up?”

“Listen, I’d like to chat and tell you all about it, but uh… can you open the gate for me?”

He nodded and let out a sharp whistle before passing on the word to whoever was in charge of the gate. A heavy wooden beam scraped against the gate, landing on the dirt with a thud before the heavy gate opened up. Adjusting the bag that hung over her shoulder, Lucy entered the camp. Not much had changed since she’d left, only some minor life improvements had been installed. Most likely due to lessons learned over the winter. Though even with these modern touches, the camp remained committed to a humble and simple lifestyle. Abel climbed down from the guard tower on a rickety ladder that creaked under each step. Clothes were dirty and he probably hadn’t had a decent scrub down himself for the better part of a week judging by the smell, but there was little denying the broad smile on his face. Even if his bushy mustache tried to hide it, “Great to see you back in the safe embrace of the Mistress, Lucy.”

She nodded, her grip on her bag’s shoulder strap tightened, “Yeah. Listen, I uh, I’ve decided to take the plunge and… live here, full time. Quit my job at Ammu-Nation, sold everything. Well, almost.”

“Really?” Abel’s eyes lit up and started to water. “Ah, blessed day. I thought we’d lost you as we did with the Herbert’s. They left just before Christmas, took the kids with ‘em.”

“I’m sorry…” she patted him on the shoulder.

He sniffed in sharply, running the back of his hand underneath his nose. Nodding more to himself he muttered, “I’m good. I’m good.”

“Right, before I forget,” Lucy zipped open her bag and dug up a fat envelope. “My donation to the Mistress. It’s not much, some half-decent savings, and what little I got for selling my trailer in Sandy Shores. Is Joseph still handling the money?”

“Yeah. Yeah, he is. With some help from Vivienne,” Abel pointed towards a simple wooden house by the water tower. “He’s- he’s not doing so good. Not since…”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Good thing the Mistress found him when she did though.”

He nodded vigorously, “Yup. You bet. It’s a sign. Convinced me that our cause is good and just. We’re good people. Anyways, I uh, better get back to it. Can’t really leave my post y’see so, uh…”

Lucy smiled at him and nudged him with her elbow, “I’ll be fine. Stay vigilant up there, keep us safe.”

Water pressed out of the dirt with every step Lucy took towards Joseph’s simple house. Out of sight around a corner, someone was chopping wood, an uneven beat that rested underneath the laughter of children playing in a puddle. Sunlight squeezed itself through cracks in the walls, carving through the dusty air inside with beams of shimmering brilliance. The wooden floor creaked and shifted underneath Lucy’s shoes while the house’s shadows coiled their thick fingers around her. A few women tended to the house and a wheelchair-bound figure in the far end of the main room. They all stopped doing whatever they were doing, their eyes glaring and lips curled into early hints of a snarl.  Their hair unkempt, clothes wrinkled, and scattered stains that had persevered through multiple washes. One of the women stood up and straightened herself, “What do you want? Who are you?”

“Good day, my name is Lucy. I helped you out with the gun show?” she shrunk back a little, clutching the envelope in her hands.

The woman raised an eyebrow, “Did you now? Why are you here, now?”

“I was a skeptic, but... I'll also admit that the sense of community you had among yourselves was quite nice. When I went back to Sandy Shores after the gun show it was as if something was missing. The daily routine of waking up, going to work, come home and dilly around for a few hours before going to bed and repeat the cycle again was just so... hollow. I wasn’t alive, I just- existed.”

She snatched the envelope from Lucy, her thumb ran over the dollar bills inside. With a slow and steady stride, the woman walked in circles around Lucy, the wooden floor creaked and protested against the soles of her heavy boots. One of the planks jutted up, pressing against a single nail that was too short to keep the plank in place. She glanced at Lucy sideways, searching for something as she spoke, “We're not here because we're free; we're here because we're not free. There's no escaping reason, no denying purpose, for as we all know, without purpose we would not exist. It is a purpose that created us, a purpose that connects us, a purpose that pulls us, that guides us, that drives us; it is a purpose that defines, a purpose that binds us. We are here because we were chosen by the Mistress of Might which gives us...?”

“Purpose.”

She scoffed, “There might be hope for you yet Lucy. Though I should warn you, salvation isn’t handed out freely. You'll have to work for it, prove that you’re worth it, and then, and only then will you earn it.”

Lucy nodded, “I understand. I’m certain that if you allow me to stay here, my place and purpose will reveal itself.”

“Mistress be with you.”

* * *

A LED light blinked rapidly while several hard drives creaked and ticked, working hard to process tons and tons of data. The night was old and weary, alternatively, the dawn was just an infant depending on how one looked at it. Between staying out in the sun to recharge her energy reserves and running an app business, Karen swung by her own office on the yacht tweaking the translation software. With each new adjustment, she ran the star map data again and again. As far as the math was concerned, it remained consistent from one translation version to the next. Even the higher math that didn’t look like anything humans had come up with. As far as Karen could tell from her limited experiment with general and special relativity, these Kryptonian equations didn’t fit in anywhere. For now, her priority was the written text found stuffed in-between the math. 

“Come on now, come on,” Karen stretched and yawned while cheering on the progress bar despite it having no effect on its speed.

“You’re up early ma’am.”

“Oh, captain. Wait, is it morning? Already?”

Captain Sato sighed and entered the office, treading carefully so as not to twist her ankle in some partially assembled desktop, “Do you have a moment ma’am?”

“By the looks of Mr. Progress bar here I have decades to spare. What's on your mind?”

“It's regarding Mr. Payton ma’am,” Captain Sato let Karen’s groan and eye-roll slide before she added, “should we run a background check on him?”

Karen had her mouth full of things she wanted to say but swallowed it all down.  She rubbed her temples, “Look, Captain... I appreciate the offer, but I've already run him through the police database. A few parking tickets and a DUI. He’s harmless.”

“And his finances?” she cupped a mug that was steaming hot, giving it's content a few light blows.

Karen set her palms down flat on the table, pulling herself up to her full height, “They’re fine Captain. He's not swimming in cash or drowning in debt. Was there anything else?”

“Do you intend to date him?”

Her shoulders sagged, “I... he’s- look, he’s a good man. But I don’t think it’d work between us. I’m not rushing into this one.”

“Well then ma’am, I take it that there will be no Valentine date?”

A message on the computer caught Karen’s attention. She typed in some commands on the keyboard with halfhearted interest, “Hm? Valentine? What’s that?”

“It’s today. I thought since you haven’t seen each other for the past couple of weeks-” Captain Sato swallowed her own words. She made a subtle adjustment to her officer hat and put the mug on Karen’s desk. “Don’t worry about it ma’am, it’s just another human holiday. A minor one at that. Excuse me.”

“Mm-hmm. Take care Captain,” Karen said not looking up from her screen. When she finally brought her attention to the rest of her desk, she noticed the mug. Taking a sip, she said, “Hmm, hot chocolate. Nice.”

* * *

Karen's hand reached out to the doorbell only to shy away just an inch apart, “Come on. What are you? Ten years old?” She pressed the doorbell, a buzz pressed itself out through the battered speaker. A moment passed. Then another. She tried to check her wrist watch, but quickly covered up the blue metallic bracer that came into view. 

Her finger approached the doorbell again when suddenly a distorted voice came through the speaker, “H-hello?”

“Will, hi. It's Karen. Look I know this is sudden, but can we talk?”

The lock in the door snapped open with a sharp metallic clack, an electric engine worked hard to press the door open. All of these subpar performing pieces were probably some janitor’s long-lost project, or perhaps he was just waiting for parts. Regardless, Karen took to the stairs and found Will’s apartment. It was still an early Saturday morning, but now that the latest and most accurate translation of the star map was ready Karen couldn’t wait. She'd also given Will time to think over her proposal. Speaking of Will, by the looks of it he seemed to enjoy sleeping in. At least on the weekends. Well-worn wasabi green slippers stood in contrast to the relatively freshly purchased leaf  green bathrobe. His face was that of a tired rag struggling to be polite and awake at the same time. Subbing his feet over to the sofa with a coffee mug in hand, he gestured an offer for Karen to join him, “Uh... can, can I get you something? A coffee maybe?”

“No thank you, Will, I'm good,” Karen sunk down on the other side of the sofa so they could see each other. Her fingers coiled around the leather strap on her shoulder bag, “Look, I'll keep it simple. Do you have an answer for me?”

Steam from the coffee cup fogged up his glasses. Even so, Karen could see that his eyes grew more alert and awake. He took a long slurp, running the hot liquid over his teeth with his lips before putting the cup down on the table. Nodding he said, “Yeah. Just one thing, is there some sort of non-disclosure deal here, or do I have to work inside a military facility?”

“Nothing of the sort. Power Girl would appreciate your discretion, but it’s not like you’re forfeiting your regular life for this job.”

“Payment?”

Karen shrugged, “She’s just a public servant Will. There's money to be made, but it’s not going to come from her directly. Write a book about it, that should get the money rolling.”

He pulled off his glasses, rubbing one eye, “Publishing a book seems to fly in the face of the discretion requirement.”

“Look, if I were to guess, I’d say that she doesn’t mind sharing this information with the scientific community. She just wants the first serving, that’s all.”

“Alright, fine,” Will threw up his hands only to have them drop almost lifeless into his lap. “It goes against my better judgment, but I’m in. Not sure how much I can help though.”

“Fantastic!” Karen dug through her shoulder bag and put a couple of external hard drives on the coffee table. “Let’s see... Calibration circle, Solar location map, Mathematical definitions, Physical unit definitions, Solar system parameters, and Solar spectrum. It's all in here and a few other things she couldn’t quite make sense of, but felt might be relevant.”

Will deflated his entire frame with a sigh, “I’ll take a look and sort through the data. Hopefully, we’ll have something ready to feed the Kepler satellite. Assuming I'm able to call in a favor that big.”

“Kepler...?”

“Hmm? You don’t know? It's a space telescope NASA will launch in early March. The latest and greatest in search of exoplanets. Or so they say.”

Karen leaned forward, “And you have a way in?”

“More like crawling in a broken basement window,” Will chuckled. Despite the gleam in his eye that he wanted to give it his best shot, his whole body was dunked in this disheartened tar. Even if it was just his morning grogginess that stood for most of it, Karen wasn’t willing to take that risk. He needed that one last nudge.

“If- if they give you trouble, contact Max Lord. He's Power Girl’s PR manager, agent, whatever. I'm sure he can give confirmation that this is legit and not some wild goose chase. Should open some doors for you.”

He took another sip of coffee, “Couldn’t they just have approached NASA directly? Why all this sneaking around?”

“She’s an alien Will. You really expect her to follow your sense of logic?” Karen rose from her seat and started for the door. Behind her, she heard Will shuffle his slipper clad feet after her.

“Karen Starr. Just who are you, really? How did you get this data?”

She batted her lashes, “I’m just a software engineer Will. Power Girl needed software that could extract the raw data from her ship's system. That's all I know.”

“I’m not- ah forget it, I'll get to work and keep you in the loop.”

“Thanks Will, you’re the best,” she gave him a light kiss on the cheek before leaving.

* * *

Three figures headed down a school hallway. Up front was an elderly lady dressed conservatively in various shades of purple and grey, complete with pointy glasses and eyeglass straps. A few steps behind on second place came a man of average built and looks, sporting a good-looking suit that was neither expensive nor cheap. His brown hair was sleek enough to be mistaken for glass and he wore a smug look on his face as if he was watching the perfect plan coming together. A plan of his own design. Back in third place walked a woman, tallest of the three and by far the strongest as her sleeveless skintight suit put her thick, muscular arms on full display. Her vibrant blue eyes squinted over at the man and she pinched her nose. When she spoke her words came out with a distorted ring, “Look, Max, we’ve got to have a talk about your smoking.”

“It’s not that bad, is it?” the smugness faded to a concerned frown and he kept his voice down.

“Maybe not to a human...”

His smug smile returned, “Okay. Good, good.”

Power Girl rolled her eyes and picked up her pace to get out of Max’s cigar stinking smog that leaked out of his clothes, only to be stonewalled by a dense fog of what smelled like sixteen gallons of perfume. The smell was so intense it was enough to make her eyes water with tears. As the trio rounded a corner, Power Girl threw a longing glance at a firehose that hung behind a thin protective glass. Thankfully their destination wasn’t far off as the elderly lady stopped by a door that looked like any other as far as Power Girl was concerned, “Here we are, class 4A.”

“Ready?”

Power Girl rubbed the back of her neck, “Do I look ready? I’d rather be target practice at the shooting range.”

He shot her a worried look, “You’re joking, right?”

“Not really, but that’s a story for another time. Let's just get this over with.”

“Okay. Good, good. They're fourth graders, how bad can it be?”

After several phone calls and a few meetings, Max had found a way to boost Power Girl’s image without involving the press. The police had on occasion done visits to schools as part of information campaigns, whether it was related to drugs, alcohol or the tried and true, crime doesn’t pay. Sadly, gun violence was also a part of the police visits where they preached of gun safety and related  topics. Max reasoned that if Power Girl did this presentation, it’d strengthen her relationship with students and staff alike. Jamie Biron, who was responsible for the Citizens’ Patrol Watchdog program was also keen on doing a similar collaboration. 

Right now though Power Girl had to deal with a classroom filled with fourth graders that were stunned to silence. Not a single snigger or amazed whisper could be heard, though if a pin were to drop it’d do so with a crackling thunder. Every single eye shined with either disbelief or pure awe; some mouths were covered while others were open wider than a barn. The vice-principal stood for the introduction and then shuffled over to the back of the room, dragging a thick carpet of perfume smog with her. Max snuggled himself into a corner close by the classroom door, still unable to wipe that smug look off his face.

Power Girl stuck to her script like a train sticking to its tracks, covering topics like Zero Tolerance,  Choices and Consequences, Peer Pressure, Bullying & Harassment Prevention, and lastly Gang Prevention. Hers was just an introduction presentation and other officers would visit the following weeks to cover each topic with a dedicated presentation. Nevertheless, Power Girl struggled to connect with the kids. What few attempts she tried came through as trying to mix oil and water; slight success with the initial stir, but they settled down in their separate halves soon enough. Their starstruck silence didn’t wear off until the very end when the most dreadful of all questions were asked; “Well then, are there any questions you have for Power Girl?”

A brave little hand shot up, “How do you fly?”

“Timothy!”

She raised a hand, “Look, I don’t mind. It's a good question, Tim. Do you mind if I call you Tim?”

Tim shook his head with a smile five miles wide smeared across his face, “Nuh-huh.”

“I’m not sure, even smarter people than me are scratching their heads over this,” she rested on the teachers' desk, ankles crossed. “But I can tell you what it feels like. Ever been to the pool and just float underneath the water? Flying is kind of like that. Except up in the air.”

Several other hands shot up as it dawned on the children that Power Girl would soon leave. Some half rose from their seats while others wiggled their hands, all while a small choir almost sang out “Me, me! Pick me!”

Power Girl picked a kid on a whim and shushed the down the class so the girl could speak up. She was a shy little thing with copper-red hair neatly tied up in two braids. Her voice was tiny and she had a stutter that tickled sniggers out of some of her classmates, “H-h-h-how c-c-c-can I be as stro- strong and p-p-p-powerful as, as y-y-y-you?”

“You already look pretty strong to me. You have the courage to speak up in front of the whole class. That's nothing to laugh at,” she tilted her head and gave the little girl a warm, assuring smile.

Her whole face lit up. Just then from the back came a snappy little comment, “She couldn’t even finish reading the Hobbit. ‘Cause the dragon was too scary.”

Chuckles rolled through segments of the class while the poor girl tried really hard to swallow back stubborn tears that started to well up in her eyes. Her face grew redder by the second as she stared intently down at her desk. Power Girl squatted down in front of the girls' desk and looked up. A thumb found her cheek, wiping away a stray tear, “Look, the truth is that the world is full of dragons, and none of us are as powerful or cool as we’d like to be. And that sucks. But when you’re  confronted with that fact, you can either crawl into a hole and quit, or you can get out there, and take off your shoes, and Bilbo it up.”

She sobbed quietly, “C-c-can a I be brave e-e-even if I'm afraid?”

“The way I see it, that is the only way we can be brave.”

* * *

“That went well, now didn’t it?” Max said with a grin that kept his precious cigar in place.

“I’ll see if I can swing by every now and then while I'm on duty, maybe have some of my lunches here,” Power Girl said as the two of them walked across the schools parking lot. 

“Good, good.”

Glancing sideways at Max, she plucked the cigar from his mouth, “We’re still in a no-smoking zone Mr. Lord.”

Max grumbled something underneath his breath as she handed the cigar back to him before starting to sign up for active duty again using her wrist brace. Swipes and taps let her navigate through the textured menus which came up like semi-liquid letters, rising up from and sinking down into the bracer itself at her commands. A small blob wobbled in a corner of its own brought a frown to Power Girl’s face. She tapped on it and a wave of new texts and symbols washed over the surface. Her hand made a clean swipe across the length of the bracer, “I’ve got to go.”

“Okay...? Something urgent?”

“Very, see you later Max,” Power Girl said before she shot up to the sky, punching through a cloud.

In the relative privacy that hovering a couple of hundred feet above the ground provided, Power Girl went to work examining the data her bracer provided. Somebody was snooping around in her network again. Thanks to Nico’s new setup however she was ready for the curious little bastard. She started to conduct a trace, narrowing down the geographic location to America, West coast, Los Santos state, and just as it pinned towards the southern part of Los Santos City, Power Girl lost the signal. Animalistic growls of frustration slipped through clenched teeth, “Okay… breathe Kara, breathe. Let’s take a look.”

She double-checked the last result and got her bearings, “Somewhere in the port south of Los Santos. I can do this.”

The wind howled over her ears, air ran its talons through her blonde hair while it scraped and tore at her cape. Power Girl pressed on, the cityscape beneath her was just a sluggish blur of desaturated colors as she aligned herself to the La Puerta Freeway. As soon as she arrived over the port area, she slammed on the breaks hard and went to work. Her keen sight swiped over the nooks and crannies of the port like a hawk stalking for prey. Putting some distance between herself and the freeway, Power Girl strained her ears as well. She didn’t have much to go on and her first idea to go after the sound of keyboards typing or the cooling fans of desktops proved ridiculous. Not only was it hard to catch such subtle sounds over the hustle and bustle of the port, but there was also a decent number of legit desktop computers and keyboards around.

Power Girl’s one advantage was that the hacker, whoever it was, had most likely no idea who or what he was dealing with. So, her rapid response ought to give her some edge, but would it be enough? A couple of port workers whistled and catcalled after her while Power Girl prowled around  like a great cat hunting. Their leers and smiles died down whenever she looked their way, her intense gaze could easily be mistaken for a deadly glare. Truth be told, Power Girl was far too focused on the task at hand to even notice them being there. As soon as she evaluated them to be too incompetent to be the ones she was looking for, they were added to a rapidly growing list of things she chose to ignore. 

While she exanimated some exposed wires, Power Girl heard something. A plastic-like clack. It was a sound she was quite familiar with. The sound of a laptop getting closed. Rising up in the air, Power Girl floated along until she could peek around the corner. There she saw him. A man squatted down next to a battered motorcycle, sporting a grey, long-sleeve zip-neck sweater, un-tucked. On top of the sweater was a modern, brown, knee-length trench coat. In addition, he wore dark grey trousers and brown boots. He was stuffing a laptop and some other equipment into a backpack while throwing anxious glances around him. Power Girl figured the man was around six feet, two inches, and of the mesomorphic build. What really sealed the deal was the neck warmer scarf tucked into the neck of his sweater, which he had pulled up so that it covered his face up to the bridge of his nose.

She landed hard and fast right next to him, a hand latched on this his shoulder, “Good day sir, mind if I ask you some questions?”

The man froze, even with his back against Power Girl she could see his green eyes darting left and right with a desperate shine to them. Just as he started to slowly raise his hands as if to surrender, a hand darted underneath his coat. Before Power Girl could react, the air exploded with the angry roar of a shotgun. She caught it square in her ribs, half staggering to her knee. A force of habit made her push the man away rather than pinch down with her fingers as the pain burned through her nerves. The last thing she wanted was to pry crushed flesh and bone from underneath her fingernails. Power Girl caught her breath and raised her head with a glare, only to stare down the barrel of a Serbu Super-Shorty. Two more shots in rapid succession, right at the center of body mass. The wind got punched out of her lunges, stomach acid and the pulpy remains of breakfast jumped into her mouth. A mouthful of vomit on the ground, a few heaving, desperate gasps for air that made her cough on the gunpowder smoke later, and the man was gone.


	19. Two Worlds

“How’s our sacred warrior?” Joseph asked before losing his voice to a throat tearing cough.

Kala glanced up from her microscope, “Joseph, you’re here rather early. And to be honest, things are going rather well. We’re seeing explosive growth in muscle tissue and appetite in our subject.”

Joseph, now relying on a wheelchair to get around on the camp got rolled up to the makeshift cage at the back of the lab. Kala joined him by his side, leaning on her crutch. Whether the whole wheelchair thing was a piece of theatrics to keep the First Sons in line or something genuine, Kala could not tell. Nor did it matter as long as she could access the funds and test subjects she needed to conduct her experiments. It’d be great if she had some competent assistant or three, but beggars could not be choosers. No doubt any such assistant would fail to see their role in God’s divine plan and run screaming to the authorities. 

The two of them looked at the test subject pacing back and forth. It once was a man and traces of that man could still be seen, especially by Kala and Joseph who’d known him from before. Hairy and unkempt, clothes were tattered and torn. Modesty and shame were both concepts that were fading to the subjects’ minds. Restless and tense, it paced back and forth yet stayed clear of the wooden bars with their crude barbwire wrappings. Pieces of cloth still hung on some of the barbwire’s teeth, brown almost black spots told the tale of blood spilled in the past. The subject eyed Kala with its eyes and she could tell there was something primal and animalistic that was strangling the mind that he once had. There was someone in there, behind the eyes. That much was obvious, but it was more akin to a great ape than a man of the modern age, “Has he said anything?”

“Not a word to be honest,” Kala scoffed and added, “unless you consider grunts talking that is.”

“God wants capable and competent warriors Kala, not mindless behemoths. That’s Satan’s lot.”

The plastic handle on Kala’s crutch creaked under her weight, “There’s the possibility of corruption. That he wasn’t pure enough and what we see now is his ugly, tainted soul made manifest.”

Joseph squirmed with discomfort in his chair, “Good God in Heaven… I never would have believed that- he was such a fine man.”

She shrugged and returned to her microscope, “You know what they say; don’t judge the book by its cover. Our Lord works in mysterious ways, but I’m confident I can unravel it and bring forth the warriors of old.”

“Can he be redeemed?”

“I work with the flesh Joseph, matters of the soul are beyond me I’m afraid,” she admitted as she kicked off, the worn office chair she sat on rattling across the wooden floor. Stopping by a dented and scratched fridge, Kala found some vials and sucked their content into a syringe. After a few taps and a test squirt, she added, “It’s not all that bad, to be honest. Even Moses wandered the desert for some time before finding the promised land.”

The syringe got tied to a modified grabbing tool. Instead of opening and closing the claw at the end, the tool’s trigger had been changed so that it emptied the syringe. As Kala tried to steady her aim and irk the tool between the bars, her target retreated further back. Her reached proved to be too short and her aim not nearly as accurate. After half a dozen jabs into the empty air, Kala put the tool aside with a deflated sigh, “It’s honestly quite frustrating how it’s too dumb to accept and obey even simple commands, yet smart enough to avoid lifesaving treatment.”

Kala started to hum a soft tune to herself as she prepared a few pharmacy bottles along with a mortar and pestle. The pills got grinded to a fine white powder to the rhythm of her tune with the occasional grunt interrupting the melody. Satisfied with her work, Kala beamed Joseph a big smile, “Don’t worry. I’ll get it right. The old sleeping pills in the food trick haven’t failed me yet.”

A large meal and a couple of hours later, Kala’s subject was sound asleep and was given the injection. Now all that remained was to wait and observe the results. Though if Kala were, to be honest with herself, she was getting diminishing returns on her tests with this particular subject. Her attention shifted from the subject to a clipboard that listed all potential subjects. Joseph was on the list and although early on he was considered to be a prime candidate, both his age and current health nudged him down on the list. Kala would rather use the lesser candidates to refine her methods than wasting high potential ones on basic trial and error. And as much as it irked her, she did not have the gene herself. Though once she had a better understanding of the gene, what it did, and how to properly activate it, it was a matter of gene therapy to do some cut and paste. No doubt the Mistress of Might would lend Her own brilliant mind and technology to this noble endeavor. Yes, there was no doubt about the matter. None at all.

Rapid breathing and sounds of an uneasy rest brought her back to reality. Her subject stirred in its sleep, twitching, and grunting. Kala merely took note of the time and made some notes. Then her subject woke up as if startled by a sharp sound. Alert and agitated, it started to challenge the confines of its cage. The hurt that the barbwire wrapped bars inflicted didn’t seem to discourage it, only enrage it further. Feet stomped hard enough to send a whole host of notes, pens, and vials rolling off tables. Even the fridge rattled along with its content. Amidst it all, Kala couldn’t stop smiling and her pen kept doing its crude yet rapid dance across the page. She noticed that the cuts on the subject’s hands closed not long after the wounds were inflicted and the discovery almost made her fall off her chair. This was a major breakthrough as she’d long speculated that the Mistress of Might was never impervious to damage as some ignorant folks claimed. But rather possessing an accelerated healing factor. Further proof that those with the gene were indeed the First Sons of the coming age. And Kala would be their Mother.

The sound of wood splitting and cracking yanked Kala out of her daydream with crude brutality. They’d bared off a part of her lab as a makeshift cage, though in their haste and folly they’d neglected the far wall. A morbid curiosity edged her on to keep quiet, don’t call for help, and keep on watching. This was a sign, for what else could it be? Her subject with its dumb primate-like mind showed problem-solving skills, almost systematically searching for weaknesses in the structure of its cage. Yet another step in the right direction. Not quite the giant leap that was its accelerated healing, but to be honest any progress was good progress. A howl from some deep subbasement of the subject’s mind rattled the room and with one last shoulder charge, it broke free. For a fraction of a second Kala let out a gleeful laugh before her the victory of her achievement got wrapped and shackled by the implication and consequences of the real world.

Outside it didn’t take many seconds for the camp to flare up in fear and panic. Kala hobbled outside as fast as her crutch would let her. This was a spectacle she would not miss for the world. How would this crude prototype fare against average people? She couldn’t wait to find out. Gunshots cut through the air, followed by pained shrieks from something that was no longer human. Kala found her subject at the camp center, bleeding from the shoulder and standing like a crude primate. It howled and huffed and puffed while trashing around. A display of force, strength, and size. Though somewhere in the depths of its primal mind, it knew that it was outmatched and outgunned. Rather than stay and challenge the group, the bloated tumor of muscle and strength darted away with a speed that seemed impossible for something of such size and bulk.

“What in God’s name was that?!”

Kala’s smile didn’t fade, even when she was confronted with the worried and troubled faces of the First Sons. Her unyielding faith and resolve seemed to have a calming effect on the crowd. At least as far as the adults went, the children were more unreasonable and wouldn’t stop crying. Kala took a deep breath and spoke out with a loud, booming voice, “The Devil tries to thwart our plans, make us fear and cower away from our sacred duty, tries to deny us our destiny! Remain pure! Pray to God Almighty, confess your sins, and purge yourself of the unclean! Lest you fall prey and become that which fled our holy grounds.”

The First Sons needed not to dwell on the image of that monstrosity or not enough to make them falter. To counteract this Kala put them to work. Walls, watchtowers, and a great gate needed to be built around the camp. The Devil’s latest minion must not be allowed to launch a successful attack until they’re ready. Her lab needed not only repairs but also upgrades if it were to hold and contain future experiments. Kala had so much data and ideas on how to proceed with her experiments on her hands that her head was spinning. Doing God’s work truly gave her a sense of being alive.

* * *

By mid-April spring was in full swing. Karen and Will had stayed in touch through the astronomy club that Rose attended on a weekly basis. One thing Karen had noticed was that Will either arrived late or left early. There were also cases where he’d been interrupted by an unexpected phone call. He remained polite and apologized whenever something came up that pulled him away from club activities. If Will had been enthusiastic about looking up at the local neighborhood with a telescope, he was over the moon whenever Karen asked him about Power Girl’s home. Close to Karen’s prediction, it had opened up some serious doors from all over the world. A wide range of experts poured over the data and permission to use the Kepler satellite to look for Power Girl’s home was soon granted.

“Really? They're looking for it in the Cygnus constellation?”

Will nodded with almost childlike excitement as he swiped through photos of some research notes on his phone, “Uh-huh. Turns out that this part here is the Great GRB Wall, just seen from a different angle.”

Karen's blue and brown eye looked at him, lost yet curious, “The what now? A wall, like the one in China?”

“No. Well, yeah. Kind of. The Hercules–Corona Borealis Great Wall as they’ve decided to call it, is massive. Ten billion light-years long, I kid you not. Some Hungarian astronomers went over the data from Power Girl and compared them with data from the Swift Gamma-Ray Burst Mission.”

“Makes sense. Something that big is a great point of reference if you’re doing interstellar travel,” Karen mused as she took in his explanation.

“As far as we can tell, it is the largest known structure in the observable universe. Like the universe itself-” his phone ringing interrupted him to the point where Will almost dropped it. Karen’s sharp reflexes offered a third hand to avert disaster, though as luck would have it Will managed to catch it himself. “Sorry, I need to take this.”

She smiled, genuinely happy on his behalf. Mingling with the crowd, Karen noticed Rose chatting up with another member. It had been a long road and although she wasn’t a professional, Karen’s own estimate would put present-day Rose at about how she was before the whole debacle with Pel. She  was still reserved and perhaps a bit too much on the timid side, but at least she was willing to engage with people on her own. With any luck, she’d be ready to join college after the summer, though Karen would only allow it if Dr. Friedlander agreed to it. Balancing Rose’s independence with the urge to shelter and provide for her could prove challenging. Although Pel had been in a financial pit of his own making, it had nevertheless opened Karen’s eyes to the brutality of the school system. While Rose had far greater respect for money, clinging to the old rule of earn a dollar before spending a dollar as best she could, the road to graduation would be steep and difficult from a money perspective. 

In her hands, Karen cupped an imaginary bird. Part of her wanted to fold her strong palms and fingers over it, shelter the bird form all the nasties of the world. Another wanted to hold it high, palms flat with fingers open, inviting it to spread its wings and explore all the wonders of the world, “They make it look so easy, but it isn’t, is it?”

“Karen?” she turned to face Will. Color had drained from his face as if he’d seen a ghost. “I found it… I found Power Girl’s home.”

Two long strides and a hug. Karen wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight as if he was a precious childhood memory made manifest.  Tears filled her eyes , her face found his shoulder and buried deep into it. Surprised and a little hesitant, Will’s arms folded across her strong back. At first, there were these awkward pats on her shoulder, but as seconds gathered around to form a full minute, the pats left in favor of these wide brush strokes. Karen’s joy, although silent and unmoving, was unapologetic. The world could point and laugh all it wanted, here and now she didn’t care. Home. As distant it may be, Karen could look up at the sky and point to it. Her sense of self-found a sturdier foundation by this fact alone, “Thank you…”

“No, no… thank you, Karen,” Will pulled away from the hug. Holding her shoulders at arm’s length, she saw gratitude clouded with puzzlement in his eyes. “Thank you for giving me this opportunity.”

She wiped her tears, unable to do anything about her smile she asked, “So… where is it?”

Almost six hundred lightyears away they’d found a red dwarf star that matched the one found in Power Girl’s data records. Will explained that it would probably have taken them years to find the actual planet even with the Kepler space telescope. The data records had sped this process up significantly and it was Will that had suggested where to look next when they struck gold. As it stood, this was the first planet with a radius similar to Earth's to be discovered in the habitable zone of another star. So not only had they found Power Girl’s home planet, but they’d also found four additional planets orbiting much closer to the star. All modestly larger than Earth. Cross-referencing the data records from Power Girl’s craft confirmed it; this was indeed where she came from. With Karen hanging on to every word that came out of Will’s mouth he went through the e-mail he’d received on his phone, “The star's apparent magnitude is fourteen points sixty-two. Aww… that’s a shame.”

“Why’s that?”

“It is too dim to be seen with the naked eye,” he scratched his beard. “It needs to have a magnitude up to at least six or lower.”

Karen looked heavenward in the brilliant spring night, “I don’t think she minds. Who knows? Maybe she can see it?”

He shrugged, “Could be. Maybe she has sight beyond sight or something. If anything, she can look at the Northern Cross and say that’s her neighborhood.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Could you forward that mail to me?”

“Oh, of course. Let me just-” Will’s words stopped along with his scrolling. His shoulders slumped and as he resumed the scrolling there was this lifeless movement to it.

“Will? What’s wrong?”

“They, uh, they want me to join them. Examine the planet in-depth, help build the next-generation space telescopes.”

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, “They’re making a new one? Already?”

“Hm? Yeah, Kepler is great don’t get me wrong, but it can’t really go much beyond spotting shadows of planets as they move in front of their local star.”

Karen spread her hands, “Looks like a golden opportunity for you Will. You should take it.”

A hand found the back of his neck, rubbing it in a bashful manner, “I don’t know…”

She walked up to him, giving his shoulder a light nudge, “Come on. Look around. There isn’t much here for you, is there? Go out there, see the world and make something of yourself. Something greater than you currently are.”

Will fidgeted, “There’s one thing…”

“What? Your dad’s grave?” He gave her no response. Instead, he just pocketed his phone and took in the sight of the club members as they started to pack up for the night. Even without a clear leader, the members knew what to do and instructed newer members to help out. “Look Will, if all you do is dwell on the past you risk dying in the present. And there’s no future in that.”

He straightened himself and looked right at her. Will’s eyes were dead serious, the looks of a man determined to take the plunge. Taking a deep breath and steeling himself, he said, “It’s you.”

“Me…? But I-”

He held his finger up to her lips, “Karen. You’re a brilliant woman. I can’t say when or where, but somewhere along the lines of exploring the cosmos with you, I,” he gave a helpless shrug, “fell for you. I can no longer imagine doing it without you.”

His hand caressed her cheek. Warm and kind, a thumb swiped away a delayed tear, “Look Will… you shouldn’t let this chance fly you by because of me.”

“Karen. If… if I take this job, will you come with me?”

* * *

Coldwater bit into Lucy’s hands as they dived down yet again to pull a drenched piece of clothing out from the washing bin. Her neck cracked a few times before, with a sigh, she went to work and started scraping the cloth against the washboard. The technology was the work of the devil, used to lull souls into a numbing daze and away from God’s light. Therefore, they should harken back to the days of old, where men were men and women were women. Nothing like a day filled with work done the old fashion way. Or so the group insisted. Lucy had done her part, favoring labor over prayer and hoping she’d be able to climb the hierarchy through sheer merit and work ethics. After  day in and day out of scrubbing clothes and doing dishes, all Lucy had to show for was a sore back and battered hands. Even the wives gossip proved useless when it was all said and done.

On a couple of occasions had she been able to secure the privilege to provide Dr. Kapur with a late-night meal. Though these also proved fruitless affairs as the good doctor was too caught up in her work to even acknowledge Lucy’s existence. She could have sneaked with her some of the doctor’s notes but had decided against stirring the pot and instead opting for securing Dr. Kapur’s confidence and access her research that way. Though as time dragged on and options drying up, there was an incident. Or rather THE incident. A bloated tumor of muscle and strength of hideous proportions had smashed through the back of Dr. Kapur’s lab, leaving it open like a gutted fish. People had responded more or less as expected; with fear and panic. Frantic commands, shrieking women, and crying kids swelled to a horrible choir before hunting rifles and revolvers brought the thunder.

Then and there it was like a nightmare that had no end in sight. Every second was a slog to get through, sapping and draining one’s strength and resolve. Vandal, one of Joseph’s more loyal dogs, tried to respond to the blooming nightmare. Lucy noticed that he struggled and fumbled with his revolver. It was an oversized cannon, more of an impractical toy than an actual weapon. The revolver’s weight and bulk refused to cooperate when Vandal tried to drag it out of his holster, all while neither his mind nor emotions were cool. Three quick steps were all Lucy needed to get to his side and snatch the gun from him. Even though swinging it around for an aim had been more like waving a bowling ball, she somehow managed to hold it steady enough for a shot. A kickback from the gun was to be expected, but even so, Lucy underestimated the sheer power the revolver sent her way. It was like a wild stallion kicked her palm; pain numbed her arms that the revolver's barrel smacked her on the forehead.

A surge of adrenaline rushed through her system; ears rang from the loud scream of the revolver. Its weight tugged and strained her wrists. Lucy inhaled sharply; the crisp smell of fresh gunpowder jabbed at her noise. She lined up another shot, steeling herself for the kick that was bound to come. The world around her went deadly quiet. Everything slowed down to a slithering crawl. Even the colors of the world appeared to fade from her vision, leaving only shades of grey on everything. Everything except her target. It stood out like a flaring sun of vibrant, brilliant color. As the trigger clicked off, the revolver kicked into the root of her palm. Lucy’s wrist protested; pain brought flashes of snarls across her face. Yet she remained on target. One step forward, another shot. Then another. And her target fled, bleeding and hurt. Reality flashed back to Lucy. Time jumped back to its normal flow, like a slowed-down video feed that was without warning brought back to normal speed. Color, sound, and smell assaulted Lucy’s senses. Strength faded from her fingers and wrist; the revolver landed in the dirt with a heavy thud. 

That was a few days ago. Back in the present, Lucy had left her laundry post and stood in front of Dr. Kapur’s lab. Blocking her path was Vandal, revolver strapped to his side and arms crossed over his chest, “What’cha want?”

“I’d like to talk to the doctor.”

“What for?”

“Listen, Vandal, right? We all saw that thing. We’re going to need more than thoughts and prayers should it decide to come back.”

He huffed his chest and put his legs a little further apart, “What you reckon?”

“Training for one. Aside from the three guys that go hunting, no one here seems to really know the first or second thing about how to handle guns,” she put one hand on her hip. “We’d risk shooting ourselves more than the enemy at this rate.”

“Who’s gonna train us? You?” his words were followed by a soft laugh.

Lucy smiled, “At least I managed to get off a few shots. Unlike someone else.”

His eyes flared up while his face grew a shade of crimson. Though much to Vandal’s credit, he remained at his post, “Yeah? You just got lucky.”

“Listen to me Vandal, I am skilled. Whether you like it or not, I’ve picked up a thing or two working at a gun store. Now the question is, are you man enough to admit your own limitations and take advantage of an offer?”

Vandal sniffed; his jaw slipped sideways as if he was literally chewing on Lucy’s words. One of his feet dragged itself across the dirt before it stopped halfway. As it settled back to where it had first stood, he said, “Not enough guns. We ain’t got enough guns.”

“So? I still know some people that owe me a few favors. Between me and Joseph, I’m sure we can scrape together enough to defend ourselves.”

He chewed on it some more before he finally nodded and stepped aside, “Doctor’s busy, so make it quick.”

“Thank you, Vandal, I’ll do that.”

* * *

The clouds cried down upon Kala’s camp like an oversized showerhead. Thousands and thousands of little rapid metallic taps bounced back and forth between the walls of her lab. Traces of sawdust still littered the floor, sticking to the end of her crutch as she limped around impatiently. Somehow her thumbnail found her teeth, scraping at some annoying itch that wasn’t really there. At long last the door to her lab swung open, boots slogged with mud and water stomped inside. Hidden underneath a drenched rain poncho that bled excess rain all over the floor the figure said, “You asked to see me doctor Kapur?”

“Yes, yes. Come in, come in. Tea?” Kala kept a polite tone, yet even she could hear the impatient edge to her words.

“No thanks, I'm good.”

“Right. Right then,” she poured herself a cup. “Lucy was it? That's your name, right? I'm sorry, names and faces have never been a strength of mine, to be honest.”

“That’s alright, you’re concerned with work far more important than putting the right name on the correct face,” Lucy pulled back the hood on her poncho. Half a dozen strays of her black hair took the opportunity to go off in different directions with little regard for style or fashion.

“I need you to do something for me, Lucy,” Kala eased herself into a chair, her crutch fell to the floor with a dead clattering sound. 

Lucy nodded, “Okay. What is it you need done?”

She inhaled deeply and cupped her tea before glancing over her shoulder. The upgrades to her lab were done. Gone were the crude wooden beams wrapped in barbwire. In their place stood several cages, not all that different from the prison cells from old westerns. A perk of recruiting from the movie capital of America; plenty of talented handymen and women willing to put their skills to use in the name of personal salvation. Around the camp, these same people had teamed up with carpenters and lumberjacks to raise walls and watchtowers. After taking a sip of her tea, Kala said, “I agree with your assessment, that we need weapons and supplies. I fear that the Devil will send His minions to attack us as soon as I start the awakening ritual. We must be ready and prepared for a siege.”

“I assume that since you’ve asked for me specifically it’s because of my Class 3 SOT license.”

“Yes... Joseph often spoke of how God’s hand touches us all. I honestly believe that it is your part in God’s plan to provide us with the weapons we need to defend ourselves against the Devil’s horde.”

Lucy crossed the arms over her chest and glanced up at the ceiling, “Listen, getting fully automated weapons is going to raise some eyebrows if we go overboard, especially if I order a whole bunch. Just how many do you think we’ll need?”

Kala leaned back in her chair, the tea cupped in both her hands. Given the raid at the university and a runaway prototype, there was a real chance that law enforcement was already spinning their web without them knowing it. If that was the case, them stocking up on weapons and ammunition would probably provide them with the excuse that they needed to sink their poisonous fangs in their fledgling cause. There was the remote possibility that since Power Girl worked together with law enforcement that she’d see that their cause was just and good, thus halt such a strike. Or if that wasn’t the case, she’d rally to their side once the police decided to attack them. Having mulled over her options Kala said, “To be honest, I feel that it’s best we remain vigilant and cautious. Our priority is to prevent the awakened to escape and keep the First Sons safe. And we already have some guns that are used for hunting.”

“So, a few fully automatic weapons for special guard duty and some ammo,” Lucy tilted her head in thought as if she was considering it. “Yeah, that’s doable. I need to take a trip to Los Santos to get it sorted out though. That okay with you doctor?”

“Yes, yes. Just be quick about it. Time is of the essence,” she gave a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Of course, I'll get to it right away. You'll be hearing from me, doctor.”


	20. Watch_Dog

Kara  rubbed her shoulder, looking but not really seeing what the computer screen showed her. Half a dozen concerns swirled inside her mind while three separate progress bars made their faithful trek from left to right. Shifting in her seat, pain flared up and she took in a sharp breath before melting down in her chair again. Her eyes wandered over the cluttered desk; computer components, programming books, and hand written notes were scattered about. Among the mess was a photograph of her and Will.  The corner of her mouth quirked up and she pulled it closer. Fingers caressed the edges of the photo while her smile faded, “What am I to do with you, Will?”

A meow caught her attention. Looking down she saw Stinky rubbing his body against her leg, purring louder than a Duracell bunny. With the photo between her lips, Kara picked up her cat, “Come here buddy, come to mommy. What do you suggest, huh?”

Stinky looked at her with his one good eye. He meowed a little protest before settling in her lap. “You see Stinky, the problem is- he doesn’t know. Well just tell him then. Yeah, but he’s not going to take it well, is he?”

She looked at the photo again, a hand stroking Stinky’s back, “This would have been so much easier hadn’t his mother done what she did.”

“Okay, look. Just for the sake of argument I tell Will and he’s shaken, but not stirred. Then what? He’ll have to stay because I can’t leave,”  she bit her lip . “Stupid government deal…”

The computer gave a ding as one of the progress bars reached its destination. Kara found the mouse underneath some of her notes and while she moved it around, those same notes dropped to the floor. The crashing of the notes caught Stinky’s interest while Kara remained focused on what new information the computer presented. More blueprints about her space pod by the looks of it. Not the life support systems as far as Kara could tell, the component didn’t look like it’d fit in that part of the pod. It was a small spherical device, appearing to be at least the size of a basketball. Two halves were connected by an array of cables and boards. If Kara read the notes correctly, the sphere emitted a blue glow and had several lights around the boards. At the top of the sphere was a small dent with a light in the center. Apparently, it had to be equipped with a timer to work. From what Kara could tell, it acted as the start plug to the FTL engine.

“If Will stays… am I just holding him back? The man lights up like a Christmas tree whenever we talk about this,” she waved a notebook with equations and crude drawings of a star system, “but is it enough?”

Recognition dawned on her face , “I have to let him go, don’t I? It’s the best- no, the lesser of two evils. He’ll take the job and leave, find himself a new girl. And I’ll stay here. Looking for love.”

* * *

Aguila Burrito, Strawberry Avenue. Power Girl hovered a few feet above the ground, arms crossed over her chest. It was raining cats and dogs outside, but she didn’t even seem to register it. She was already soaked to the bone, looking more like a drowned cat than anything else. It was clear from her facial expression alone that she had no patience or interest in any kind of shit or smart mouthing. In front of her, standing in the doorway was a man. About six-foot, two inches, and of mesomorphic build. There was a punctured hole on the side of his coat as if it had been shot by a shotgun at point-blank range. The man clicked his tongue, “Shit.”

“Aiden Pearce? Why don’t you come with me over here for a moment sir? I want to talk.”

“On what grounds, officer?”

Power Girl raised an eyebrow. There’s a first time for everything apparently. She nudged her head, “Assaulting an officer. Last we met you shot me, trice. I can haul your ass in on that charge alone, sending you to state-fucking-prison on a bullet. Or we can talk.”

Adrian nodded, pocketed his takeaway order, “How did you find me?”

“The plate on your bike. Cops found it a couple of days after you ditched it, got a few prints, and lucky little me. You’ve got quite the record, Mr. Pearce. Also, you forgot to turn off your cellphone.”

He checked the phone in his pocket, turning it off he said, “Funny, you don’t strike me as the techie type.”

“Oh yeah, I’m quite the nerd. I know all the tricks; left-click, right-click, double-click, middle-click,” Power Girl glared at him for a moment. “Why are you stealing files from StarrWARE Mr. Pearce?”

“Why are you so interested?”

She landed and bridged the gap between them with a firm stride, “Don’t answer my question with another question, sir. If all you’ve got for me is smart smack talk, you’ll be playing butthole bingo in the prison showers before the sun sets. Are you picking up what I’m putting down?”

He rolled his eyes, “Yes sir…”

“Are you blind by any chance, Mr. Pearce? Do I look like a sir to you?”

Adrian’s green eyes licked the length of her naked arms. He shrugged and smirked, “Something like that.”

Her arms remained at her sides ,  “Drop the attitude, Mr. Pearce, you’re already in a deep enough hole as it is. My advice is to stop digging. Now, the files.”

“I’m investigating Devin Weston,” Adrian admitted with a sigh.

She snorted ,  “Weston? What for?”

“Ever heard of his twenty or under rule?” Power Girl shook her head. “It mainly applies to women. Cars and wine are the only exceptions I know of.”

The rain came down harder. Power Girl shuddered, “Look, I get that’s a creepy age gap, but-”

“Weston might not be bad enough to pop on your radar officer, but his friends should.”

She thought for a moment before she said, “Business partners, associates, friends of friends. I take it that they like them on the younger side?”

Adrian nodded, “Single digits.”

The color drained from Power Girl’s face, “Stars and stone. But there’s nothing- you think StarrWARE is part of this?”

He unpacked his takeaway order and took a bite; hot steam puffed a trail of smoke into the air like an oversized cigar. Licking his lips, he said, “Maybe. Maybe they’re in on it. Maybe they’re just an ignorant pawn, a sacrificial lamb they can butcher so they can continue to indulge in their sick ways.”

“You don’t know for certain yet.”

“Still digging,” he took another bite. “Figured that- Weston wants to make StarrWARE like a distribution hub for all his little friends. Videos, pictures… he already has hotels and mansions all over the state. Owns liquor brands that are advertised as the hot, cool shit for youngsters. If you want to be a winner in showbiz, Weston is your best bet.”

“What tipped you off to StarrWARE?”

“Small business. New in town. Signed a contract with Weston, who sent his personal lawyer. They probably haven’t caught up with the rumor mill yet. Kinda like you, really,” finishing his meal, Adrian crumbled the wrapping in his hands. “Then there was the amount of data going in and out. Massive. All encrypted in a way that I still haven’t cracked.”

“You’re suspecting Karen Starr.”

He jammed his hands in his coat pockets, “Yeah well… it’s just a hunch, but as soon as I crack that encryption I’ll know for sure. If that’s the case, that bitch is going down with the rest of those sick fucks.”

A gust of wind dashed over the small parking lot in front of the burrito shop. Power Girl’s drenched cape made a half-hearted attempt to play along before slumping to a wet rest, “Look, I appreciate your efforts Mr. Pearce but I’ll take it from here. Hand over those files and I promise you I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Adrian let out a harsh breath, followed by a crude laugh, “Ah that’s rich. No. No deal. I’m so close, I’ve worked so hard and long on this. I’m not stopping now. Not for you, not for anyone.”

Her lip twisted into a snarl, “Give. Me. The. Files.”

“Easy there, easy…” he showed both his palms before pointing up to his right. Power Girl followed his finger and saw a surveillance camera staring at them like an empty doll's eye. “Don’t want to do anything rash, especially on camera. Weston didn’t send you, did he? Has he gotten to you too? Is that why you met with him at Richards Majestic Productions? Because I know Weston has found a lot of ladies via that studio.”

Power Girl’s fist met the concrete wall behind Adrian, sending flakes of paint flying. Behind her soaked bangs, her eyes glowed with rage, “I…! You have the right to remain silent, Mr. Pearce. Use it. Or no amount of high definition footage will save you.”

“Fair enough. You’re still very interested in these StarrWARE files. Why?”

“They- they’re mine,” her shoulders slumped. “I approached StarrWARE to help me extract data from my craft. I don’t know what all of them contain. Harmless cookie recipes or something that can be weaponized. Either way, I can’t let that kind of knowledge lie floating around.”

“They’re not, the files are secure,” Adrian twisted the wedding ring on his finger. “If you want them back, let me finish the job.”

“Not alone.”

“Sorry lady, but I only work alone.”

She jabbed a finger at his chest, “Don’t give me any of that lone wolf emo crap. Use your head for just two seconds. Weston is filthy rich and has a lot of power in this town. Do you want to take him down? You need an airtight case. I’ll set things up with the D.A.’s office, with me on the team you’ll  have an official police investigation going on. Together we do the legwork, we get to send those filthy fucks straight to state-fucking-prison, I get my files back. And I don’t throw you in jail for shooting me. Deal?”

Adrian thought it over for a moment, glancing down at the handshake Power Girl was offering him before he said, “Wipe my record clean.”

“I’ll talk to the D.A., see if we can work something out.”

“Deal.”

* * *

That weekend the news broke about Will’s discovery and he held a celebration party of sorts at his place. Friends and coworkers came, along with a strong representation from the astronomy club. Initially, Karen was reluctant to go, but she figured it would be a great test to see how Rose handled a different, yet familiar social context. Not to mention that she needed to give Will an answer. By the time Karen and Rose arrived, the party was already in full swing. Will's simple apartment had been given a significant makeover for the occasion. Complete with balloons, a large congratulation banner by the TV, and confetti. Buckets of confetti. 

Greetings and congratulations were exchanged, followed by mingling small talk. Although his role as both the host and the star of the day kept him busy, Will cast longing glances at Karen whenever he found a moment. It didn’t take many minutes of chit-chat to learn that Will had gone above and beyond the call for discretion, as no one at the party knew that Karen was the one that provided him with the data. Instead, much like Karen, he’d danced around the subject with hints of a non-disclosure agreement about the specifics. Although curious to no end, Will’s coworkers dropped the subject matter. Perhaps in fear that if they probed too deep, Power Girl would back out of any further cooperation. Some of his friends, however, joked that Power Girl had swept him off his feet and pulled the now-famous external hard drives out from her cleavage. For how else could she possibly carry anything wearing that suit?

A short train of hours came and went. People started to take their leave, some returning home because the babysitter had called them. Others were ready for a round or three out on the city. After all, the punch bowl was practically empty. Karen looked at her watch. If she was smart about it, she’d head back home too. Chances were that she’d have an early morning so she could get the most out of the day. Adrian didn’t strike her as a man with much patience left in the tank. He was practically running on fumes. Considering he was willing to take Power Girl head-on; Karen didn’t want to think about what he’d might do should his patience run completely dry. Just then, a hand took hers and pulled her out of her thoughts, “I know it's late but something's on my mind.  It can’t wait since there’s never any time.”

In a rare moment of determination, Will took the lead, “Will? What’s the matter?” 

“I'm tired of ignoring all the space that's between you and me,” he said as he led her into the bedroom. Mumbling underneath his breath he added, “Let's lock the door behind us, make the whole world wait.”

“Uh, Will? Look, I'm not-” she tensed up, quietly hoping for the best while preparing for the worst. If she could stop him with words rather than fists then perhaps, she could salvage their friendship.

He tapped on his phone before tossing it onto the bed. Only a few steps separated them. Karen looked for a way out, but he stood between her and the door which of course was locked.  He held  out his arms, hands reaching as he drew nearer. She stepped away with a shudder. Take the hint, read the mood. But all Karen saw on his face was determination. A deep breath, fuel for an ear-piercing scream. All things considered, it was her best option. Better than tackling him like a football player and smashing through the bedroom door at any rate. 

Just then his phone made a sound. For a darting second relief splashed over Karen like a bathtub of refreshing water. Saved by a phone call. Will, however, didn’t stop. His hand found hers, gentle and kind, “Mind if we dance around in this bedroom as we've only got tonight?”

Calling it dancing might have been a bit of a stretch. They just stood close while holding hands and swayed ever so faintly to the soft tunes that came from Will’s cell phone. Not that they had much of an option with the bed taking up the bulk of the room. Their noses touched; his warm breath brushed against her skin like a tender breeze. Karen smiled, a soft and content smile while she enjoyed the moment. From the far side of the door, her ears caught wind of one of Will’s friends covering for him, trying to keep Rose at ease. By the sound of it, she was taking it rather well. Whether she was worried because Karen was gone or because there was a risk that she might do something rash and violent, Karen couldn’t tell. 

Karen snuggled closer, welcoming his warm kindness. Subtle hints of perfume teased her nose, intertwined with the sweet smell from the punch that still lingered on his breath. Just as he said, they made the whole world wait while they shared a quiet moment of bliss together. At first, it sounded like the lyrics from the song, but then Karen realized that Will was talking. Pulling back from the soft blanket that had been folded around her mind and heart, she heard him say, “Not about to let you go until the morning light. Do you recall how long it must've been since any room held only you and me? Funny how every song that sings about it, claim that we can't live without it. Only now do I know just what that really means...”

She stopped and pulled back, “Look, Will...”

“Karen. You can be my whole world if I can be your satellite.”

“Come here,” she sat down on the bed and invited him to sit with her with a few soft pats. “Let’s talk, you and me.”

Like an obedient child Will sunk down next to her. Turning off the music left a deafening silence. A deep breath and a soft exhale later and Karen were ready, or as ready as she’d ever be. Will was a good man and he deserved a straight answer. As straight as she could give him at any rate. Her brown and blue eye met his which gleamed with hope and a dream, “Will. I can’t go with you.”

The dream withered in his eyes, yet hope remained, “Then I won’t take the job.”

“You should, I really think you should.”

“Why? What good is it if, if I have no one to share it with?”

She put her hand on his knee, “Look Will you’re a good man. Kind, patient, and understanding. You'll find someone, I'm sure of it. Who knows, she might even be a fellow astronomer from Europe or wherever.”

He mulled it over for a moment without looking fully convinced, “Can you tell me why you won’t come with me?”

“I’m...” the truth hung at the tip of her tongue before at the last second, Karen chickened out, “tied down here much more than you. I have a business that I've worked hard to get off the ground and keep afloat.”

“So, it’s career over everything?”

“What? No. Stars above, no...” Karen buried her face in her hands. “If you pass on the job and stay, you’ll look over your shoulder for the rest of your life. Looking at the chance you didn’t take. Will, you’ve never looked so alive as when you tried to find Power Girl’s home.”

Will got up from the bed in a huff and started pacing around the bed, “I don’t understand. Why? Why can’t-”

“You have the cake and eat it?” Karen pulled herself up to her full height, taking his hands in hers. “Try to see it my way. We both have dreams and aspirations, they’re just not compatible. If you stay here with me, you’ll be like a bird stuck in a cage too small. Spread your wings Will. Fly high, far and wide. To the ends of the cosmos.”

He exhaled before a sheepish little smile curved his lips and he started to hum, “All by myself, don’t wanna be all by myself...”

Karen couldn’t help but chuckle with a lighthearted frustration, “You’re going to be fine. Trust in yourself, Will. I want you to be happy, even if I can’t be part of it.”

“Okay... okay, okay,” Will sniffed and cleared his throat, eyes wet with fresh tears. “Friends?”

“Friends.”

* * *

The smell of fresh waffles and coffee greeted Lucy as soon as she opened the door to the café. About one-quarter of the booths were full, a healthy mix of tourists and regulars. The café at the end of Chumash pier was a quieter and more authentic alternative to the mainstream Del Perro Pier or so various travel blogs insisted. Lucy gave the waitress a polite tip to her cap as she made her way past the counter and all the way to the back of the café. Opposite in the booth she settled in sat a stout African-American woman quietly stirring a cup of coffee. Her expression was blank and indifferent to the point that it was near impossible to get a read on her. Aside from her pearl necklace and earrings, there was very little that stood out about her. Clothes, though formal with a purple jacket, white shirt, and black skirt were plain and kind of just washed off one’s sight without leaving much of a mark. All she did to acknowledge Lucy was to raise her eyes before turning her attention back to her coffee, “Report.”

“One of Dr. Kapur’s experiments went bad,” Lucy flipped through the menu. “My guess is that it was one of the cultists that got subjected to her treatment. Whatever it is, it makes you more beast than man. In return, you get absurd strength and rumors of a healing factor.”

“Is the subject still in camp?”

Lucy shook her head, “No. It broke free from its holding cell and- well, they tried to put it down but it escaped after taking some damage.”

“Have the experiments stopped?”

“Yes, but only temporarily. Dr. Kapur’s lab took a hit when the subject punched its way through the back wall. They’re working on repairs as we speak. I assume Dr. Kapur will resume her experiments once the repairs are done.”

From the corner of her eye, Lucy spotted a waitress approaching their booth, “Hi, what can I get you today?”

“I’ll have the egg and bacon special and some orange juice please,” Lucy gave the waitress a polite smile. As soon as the waitress was out of ears shot, Lucy leaned forward and said, “We’ve got to stop this before it goes on any longer.”

“Have you secured the research data?”

She hung her head, “No. No, I haven’t. In light of the lab incident, I’ve volunteered as a drill instructor and security detail. Still no access to the lab though. I’m on my way to secure more weapons from some of Joseph’s contacts. The longer we wait, the more likely we’ll get a bloodbath on our hands, you hear me?”

“I hear you,” the woman sipped her coffee. “Keep at it, work your way up the ranks until you have access to the lab. Then secure any and all research data.”

“They’re conducting experiments. Human experiments!” Lucy hissed. “Freakin’ hell, what more do you need?”

The coffee cup clacked against the table, “Secure the research agent. That is your primary objective, any other concerns are secondary.”

She shook her head, “This is- alright, yes. I hear you. But I want it on record that I’m doing this under protest.”

The woman scoffed, a corner of her mouth raised to a barely visible smile, “Whatever makes you sleep at night. Stay on target agent.”


	21. Gentle Giant

The trunk on the taxi closed with a thud. In the clouds above Karen and Will, a plane took to the skies, engines roaring. A collection of suitcases and duffel bags held the remains of his old life. With a melancholic tug, he hoisted a bag over his shoulder and was about to reach for the second when Karen snatched it up. He was about to protest when she flashed him a smile and wink as if assuring him that she had it all under control. The two of them navigated through the busy crowd of the airport with all the grace of people being bogged down by luggage. Keeping up with tradition, the check-in queue moved with half the speed of snails, so Karen and Will had plenty of time to check, double-check and check again that all his papers and luggage were in order. It was then when she noticed something was missing, “Hang on. Will? Where’s your telescope?”

“In the mail.”

She raised an eyebrow, “You’re mailing your telescope?”

“Uh-huh, to you,” as soon as he noticed her starting to raise some sort of protest he added, “figured it’s a nice thing to remember me by.”

“Aw, thank you, Will. That's really sweet... of... you...” Karen’s smile faded as a particular sent caught her attention. It was very distinct, inhuman and it took her right back to the incident at the Humane Labs incident months ago.

“Karen? Is something wrong?”

Her eyes grew distant, searching through the crowd, “Wait here, I'll be right back.”

Following the trail like a tiger on the hunt, Karen stalked through the crowd with a heightened sense of alertness. She almost lost it when for whatever reason it led her through a perfume store where dozens of sample sprays still lingered in the air. Over the hustle and bustle of the crowd, a distorted voice said something over the speakers. Karen didn’t catch what it was about, nor did she care. Nerves twisted around themselves, increasing in tension for each passing second. Somewhere among the masses, a toddler was throwing a tantrum and high school girls giggled over a celebrity magazine. A fight in here would be nothing short of catastrophic.

“Hey babe,” someone put a hand on her shoulder. There was a drunken slur to his words and cheap beer on his breath. Karen glared at him as if he was just a wet piece of toilet paper away from getting his face punched in hard enough to be shitting teeth. That cut through the drunken haze and he retreated with a whimper.

Passing an elderly couple that tried their best to make heads and tails of the massive time table list that hung on the wall, Karen was close. The trail grew stronger and for the lack of a better word, fresher. Some security guards were making rounds or moving from one gate to another, bloodhounds in tow. She could enlist their help, but that’d blow her identity as Karen Starr out of the water. Shaking her head, Karen instead set her sight on the fire alarm. Crude, but it’d get people out of the building. While she might risk losing whatever she was chasing after in the confusion, it was better than the potential bloodbath that could unfold if she had to duke it out.

Suddenly it was as if she’d collided with a glass door. The spike in the smell was that intense. She looked just ahead and saw a man wearing a grey hoddie and a black leather jacket with a red abstract pattern across the upper back. It reminded Karen of a winged design. As if it had a mind of its own, her hand clasped over the man's shoulder and pulled. Not only did he barely budge which was unusual in and of itself, but sharp stinging pain pierced through the palm of her hand the  moment she pulled. Retracting her hand, her eyes widened at the sight of tiny red pearls squeezing their way out through her skin. The man glanced halfway over his shoulder, “You’re not human...”

“Right back at you,” she clutched her hand, her  breaths quickened. 

“Lady, I don’t want any trouble. Just let me go.”

“Uh-huh. If you come from where I think you do and you’ve been to the places I suspect, you’ve been all over the state already. What for?”

The man turned around. Underneath the hood was an ashen face, scarred and worn down by some unseen burden. In a sense he reminded Karen of Adrian, only with a subtle absence of humanity. Human, yet not quite. As if he had somehow fallen deep into the uncanny valley and the best he could do was pull a hood over his head to mask it. The man took a deep breath, loading his heavy truth before he spoke, “I looked for the truth. Found it. Didn't like it. Wish to hell I could forget it. Alex Mercer... This city suffered for his mistakes, for what he did at Humane Labs. And whoever he was - that's a part of me.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I close my eyes, I see the memories of a dozen dead men, screaming as I take their lives. Moments I'll relive forever. What have I become? Something less than human. But also something more.”

She gave a little laugh, “ No trouble, huh?”

“Believe me, lady, I just want to disappear more than anything else. Badly enough to try to swim across the pacific. It didn’t pan out.”

Over the speakers, the distorted voice mumbled and cracked, yet somehow Karen caught just a few keywords. Will’s flight was ready. She relaxed her stance, “Alright. I'll hold you to your word Alex.”

He scoffed and a corner of his mouth bent upwards, “Thanks Kara, appreciate it.”

“How did you-” she started but Alex was lost to the crowd. 

* * *

“Cease fire!” Lucy shouted across the makeshift fire range. She gave a satisfied nod when the shooting died down almost instantly. Strides of progress had been made since training started, both with accuracy, safety, and discipline in how the security guards handled their guns. It had taken some effort to get them to listen, though Lucy had won them over by letting them try things their way even after she pointed out flaws in their approach. Then she let them confront their mistakes head-on by showing them how it was meant to be done. With the guns properly secured, the shooters went to collect their target paper for review.

“Gosh darn it, I still keep hitting to the right of the target,” one shooter removed his washed-out baseball cap and scratched his head.

Lucy glanced down on his target paper and showed him her own gun, “I think it’s because you squeeze your thumb too much, kind of like this. Ease up on that and you should get closer to the center. Here and here you’re heeling which is why your shots veer off to the upper right.”

He nodded and sighed, “Al’ight, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“How are you holding up, David?”

David shook his hand as if it was hurting, “My wrist hurt like a son-of-a-bitch and none of my shots hit the mark.”

Lucy took his target paper and examined it, “You’re not listening to me, David. You’re still breaking your wrist up. That’s why you miss most of your shots and the two that did hit are up here, at the top of the paper. Hold your gun with the thumb over thumb grip like I showed you yesterday.”

“Looks lame though.”

She sighed, “If you insist on looking like a badass, you’ll miss anything smaller than a barn. Also, I’ll take you off target practice since you refuse to listen to feedback and implement it. You hear me?”

A chuckle rustled through the other shooters. David shot them a glare and it died down only to be replaced with the stereotypical  _ don’t-mind-me _ whistle. Pouting, he jammed his hands into his pockets and mumbled out a low, “I hear you, Lucy.”

“Good. I think that’s it for today. Dinner will be served soon and then we have evening prayer. Pack it up people,” Lucy clapped her hands to get the group moving.

Dinner, like so many times before, was a simple and humble meal. They didn’t really have the facilities to prepare an elaborate hot meal for as many as they were, so the menu cycled through dishes that were easy to make in bulk. It filled their bellies well enough, those that were on harder labor duties usually got a second serving but beyond that what you were given was what you got. Prayer and sermon time Lucy spent collecting her own thoughts rather than paying too close attention to what was said. She did chime in with the occasional praise or amen as needed and since she had more first-hand experience with Power Girl than just about anybody, Lucy could keep the small talk on the subject fascinating and engaging. Perhaps it was the grain of truth that drew people into her little stories. It was one of the few tools Lucy had to create a name for herself, one that she used sparingly. There was no telling how the flock’s leadership would react to someone who’d challenge their narrative or position of power. And Lucy wasn’t too keen on finding out, not with this many guns lying around.

Down on the stage, Joseph went through his usual spiel. The same old stuff just recycled and tweaked enough to make it appear new. It lacked the flame of his past performances and the man himself was reduced to crumbling embers of his former self. Tradition, sympathy, and to an extent pity lend Joseph the ears of the flock and little else. The real star was Dr. Kapur, who was the true prophet and instrument of God. Through her work and her work alone, they’d get salvation and a meaningless world would make sense once more. Dr. Kapur had learned a lot from Joseph and applied it well. There was this genuine desire or conviction to her speeches that Lucy never really heard from Joseph. With Joseph, it was all a façade, a shiny mask, and one hell of a performance he put on to get power, influence, and above all else, money. With Dr. Kapur, it was a different matter. Buried underneath the tall tales of angels, souls, ancient aliens, and long-lost bloodlines, through the thorny hedge of complex science lay an honest to God conviction that what Dr. Kapur did, was for the betterment of the people that followed her. From what Lucy could gather, even if she stripped away the flair, smoke, and mirrors, the scientist in Dr. Kapur either knew or firmly believed that lives could be saved through the fruits of her labors. Towards the end, they all stood up and said in unison, “Mistress of Might be with you.”

Lucy rose from her seat; her butt welcomed the release from the flat and hard wooden surface she’d been sitting on for the better part of two hours, “Oh, my lower back… alright, let’s just check the weapon storage real quick and then I’m so off to bed. That’s going to-”

A hand touched her shoulder, “Lucy? They’re asking for you.”

“Mm? Who?”

“The Prophet.”

The color drained from Lucy’s face, “Uh- okay? Did… did she say what about or?”

The woman shook her head before taking her leave. Lucy inhaled deeply and exhaled as she started the descent down to the stage. For whatever reason, she halted at the bottom of the stage, rigid and stiff like a soldier. Her last step ended with a thud to catch the small group’s attention. Dr. Kapur glanced down and excused herself from whatever they were talking about, “Lucia, Lucia. I’m so pleased to see you.”

“It’s- uh, it’s Lucy. My name is Lucy.”

Dr. Kapur blinked, “Oh? How odd, I could have sworn- well, no matter. You’ve done phenomenal work, Lucy, that’s what matters.”

“Thank you, that means a lot hearing it from you,” she left a bashful smile on her lips while her fingers fidgeted around in a clumsy dance. 

“In fact, you’ve done such a good job,” Dr. Kapur offered her hand to Lucy, “that I honestly cannot think of a better person to entrust as head of security.”

“Really? Uh, this- this is a great honor… I don’t know what to say.”

The hand nudged closer, “Say you’ll accept.”

Lucy licked her lips and took Dr. Kapur’s hand, elevating herself up to the stage. The others present, Dr. Kapur’s inner circle as it was known, nodded with approval and even allowed themselves a faint smile or two. Dr. Kapur went on to explain that she’d hope Lucy would help her elect candidates for security detail in the lab itself as well as try to train the ascended souls so that they would prove better and more efficient soldiers worthy of the Mistress of Might’s command. She did not shy away from her own failures in this matter but stressed that they were all tools and gears in God’s divine plan. Lucy was the missing gear that God had sent to Dr. Kapur so that together they could provide the Mistress of Might with an army which would slay the wicked and punish the sinner. 

Their talk stretched out while Dr. Kapur gave Lucy a tour of the lab. Lucy took the opportunity to ask questions of the process, arguing that if she at the leas was familiar with it, she would better know how to approach training. Although Dr. Kapur showed hints of skepticism at first, she indulged Lucy’s request nonetheless. Sadly, it didn’t take many minutes of talking before Lucy was lost in a river of fast-moving scientific terms and principles that were far too complex for her to wrap her head around. From what she did understand, it boiled down to crude experiments that broke a whole host of medical and ethical ideas in the name of activating one elusive and stubborn gene. Then further experiments were conducted to nurture the gene’s full potential. Dr. Kapur admitted that it was still in a trial stage and there was no shortage of hurdles that needed to be overcome before the process was perfected. Nevertheless, she was firm in her conviction that the suffering these early subjects endured were worthy sacrifices to find better methods in the future. With the purging on  the weak, these new meta-humans would be the new humanity. Better in every conceivable way, just like the Mistress of Might Herself.

Lucy set out to work immediately the following day. Guards were elected, patrols and shifts got organized along with continued weapon and target practice sessions. As for weapons and ammunition, Lucy remained the main supplier. With her newfound position, she took a slightly different approach. A portion of the ammunition she brought in was duds, bullets filled with sand instead of gunpowder so they looked and weighed the same as the real deal, but obviously wouldn’t fire. On the grounds of weapon maintenance and inspection, Lucy secretly removed the firing pins from several rifles and pistols. These were set aside in the storage while the guards and hunters had their own weapons as well as a set of functional weapons that were dedicated to practice use.

Late one night, Lucy stepped into the lab to take over for the graveyard shift. The guard she relieved had already snoozed off to the point where his shirt was stained with drool. He excused himself with a drowsy apology and good night jumbled together before staggering out the door. Next to a microscope, Dr. Kapur had fallen asleep, face buried in her arms with a pen still in hand. She approached the doctor on quiet feet and gently shook her shoulder, “Doctor? Doctor, wake up. I know that your work is very important to you, but this is no place to fall asleep.”

“Mm? Who? Wha-”

“Please listen to me, call it a night. Get some rest and tomorrow is a new day.”

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, “I suppose-”

A yawn stole the rest of her words as Lucy collected her crutch and offered it to her, “Want me to follow you to your bed?”

“No, no… I’m fine,” she waved a dismissive hand at Lucy. Seeing that she wasn’t fully convinced, Dr. Kapur snatched her crutched and forced a smile, “Honest! Have a nice shift, Lucy. Be sure to report any and all changes in the subject directly to me.”

“I hear you loud and clear, good night.”

The steady clack of Dr. Kapur’s crutch faded into the night, leaving Lucy alone in the lab. Behind bars, the good doctor’s subjects slept. Though even in their sleep they looked restless as if there was something plucking on the strings of their sleep, keeping them from fully submerging themselves in a peaceful rest. Lucy took one quiet stroll through the lab, checking windows, and entrances. Content that she had absolute privacy; she went to work. Research notes got photocopied, equipment models and serial numbers noted, and lastly, the subjects filmed on video. One of them twitched and woke up, its tired bloodshot eyes locked on to the camera lens. Its intense stare made Lucy catch her breath. Somewhere between beast and man was this creature, so impossibly strong yet fragile at the same time. Despite its bulk, it cowered away from Lucy and tried to make itself as small as possible.

Its eyes welled up, whether this was for some physical pain or discomfort, or from something else entirely Lucy could not tell. There was something about them that made her turn off the recording. The more she looked at it and studied it, the more Lucy saw not a hulking warrior of the apocalypse, but a scared, hurt, and lost child. She remembered that Dr. Kapur had lamented that while the ascension process did wonders for the flesh with its strength and regeneration, the mind withered away to a husk. If Lucy didn’t know any better the subject looked like a child who’d said and done everything ever asked of it, only to still be punished and disproportionally at that. Left alone in the night, it appeared to run things over and over again in its mind, trying to figure out what, where, and  how it did wrong that might explain its punishment. Yet tried as it might, tolling through long and lonesome hours, no explanation could be found.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” Lucy’s words were soft and tender.

It hugged itself tightly, old wounds split open and red blood trickled down its skin. Grunts and huffs got shuffled with sobs as it banged its head against the floor with muffled thuds. Against her better judgment, Lucy approached the steel bars and kneeled down, “Hey, hey… it’s okay. Ssshh… it’s okay. I’m not mad, okay?”

A flicker of hope glinted in its eyes. Its massive hand, crude and strong reached out to the bars. Fresh blood stained its palm, still glistening in the light. Lucy reached inside her pocket, “Here, I have, uh? Where did I… there it is.”

Between two fingers she offered a handkerchief. The subject touched it, rubbed its soft fabric between its fingers. A smile, faint as a shadow on a moonless night crossed its lips. They cracked, inviting a string of pearls to join the night. It took the handkerchief and dabbed its lips, the smile widened. Lucy got up and fetched a bowl of water only to discard it in favor of a plastic cup. She slipped it between the bars along with a candy bar, “Don’t tell anyone alright? This will be our little secret.”

It nodded and drank the water. For all its strength and might, the subject struggled with finer motor skills. In a sense, it reminded Lucy of a toddler balancing a cup in its hands. Except this toddler had hands that were many times bigger than the cup. As for the candy bar, it went down in one bite. Wrappings and all. Torn wrappings peeked between its chocolate smeared teeth as it flashed Lucy a wide grin. Lucy pulled up a chair and remained by the cage. There she sat, until the end of her shift and the dawn brought a new day. A new round of experiments was guaranteed to begin just after breakfast.

* * *

Adrian’s base of operations would never in a million years win any reward for best interior design. It was a run-down motel where the so-called staff never asked any questions and in return, the guests never raised any complaints. Though as Adrian put it, as long as the toilet flushed and the electricity was working, that was good enough for him. Power Girl had a hard time telling where the wall stopped and the window began. Dust and spiderwebs made the curtains almost fuse with the battered wallpaper. Broken furniture stitched together from six different styles with duct tape had been tilted over and shoved aside to make room for Adrian’s impressive computer setup. 

Wires and power cords were spread out like three dozen discarded jumping ropes all over the floor. Monitors from multiple generations showed complex code and text-based user interfaces with varying degrees of sharpness to their images. Over the loud humming of the server rack and multitude of desktops, the loud clacking of a mechanical keyboard could be heard, “Okay, downloading folders six through forty-five.”

Power Girl nodded with approval. She had been working a double shift on this case ever since she’d struck the deal with Adrian. One shift as Power Girl where she kept on top with police paperwork and had a constant dialogue with the D.A.’s office. Sgt. Richard Bucknell, the n ight shift evidence lockup officer was the only one that had some idea of the true nature of Power Girl’s case. But even he didn’t have a complete picture. As far as the rest of the precinct knew, she was working on something big. Most of her peers were just happy that she wasn’t stirring the pot and actually focusing on her duties instead.

The other shift was as Karen Starr. She’d thrown herself into the Weston project, consuming every technical detail she could like a starved animal. Going after every business that Weston wanted to be connected via the smart app, Karen dug around for any and all technical data and specifications she could. If she came over a system or equipment that caught her interest, she exhausted all possible questions and passed the answers over to Adrian. People were innocent until proven guilty, something she struggled to get Adrian to see, but she was nonetheless determined to keep innocent people from getting dragged down when ships started sinking. Especially StarrWARE.

Their partnership, despite its rocky and uneven start, had proved successful. It had been a long slog, but now they had an extensive list of suspects, a list of charges long as sin, a comprehensive timeline of who was where, with who when, and unfortunately far too much evidence for comfort. Gigabyte after gigabytes of pictures, video snippets, and audio recordings. Some fairly harmless while others were enough to either make your blood boil or start considering moving to Pluto. All that remained now was to wait for the progress bar to fill, file the charges and Power Girl would get her files back, “How does it look, Adrian?”

“Another minute or so PeeGee,” he cracked his knuckles. “I’ll start getting your files ready.”

“And you didn’t take a peek at them?”

He sighed, “For the ten-thousandth time… no, not even once.”

“Just checking.”

The clicking of Adrian’s keyboard paused, then resumed, “Odd.”

“What?”

“I don’t recognize the content of this folder,” he pointed at one of the monitors.

Power Girl came over, standing behind him, “Let me see… Adrian. Check the network.”

“PeeGee, it’s tight.”

“Check it.”

He sighed, typed in some commands and the screen changed, “See? It’s… what the?”

“Shut it down. Shut it all down! Now!”

“I can’t, we’re still downloading the evidence!”

“We have enough to lock them up until the heat death of the universe. Shut it down!” Power Girl reached for the keyboard. Adrian snatched it and yanked the cord off. Without warning Power Girl slashed through the monitors, desktops, and wires with her heat-vision. Sparks flew, the power died and the glass shattered. Left in the dark, illuminated only by burning plastic, Power Girl’s eyes dimmed down.

“What the hell was that for?!” Adrian demanded between coughs. The smoke detector decided now would be a great time to start screaming at the top of its little speaker. “Oh great, just great.”

With a quick jab from her heat-vision, Power Girl killed the smoke detector as well, “I need to trace that signal…”

“Trace what? How? You burned everything!” Adrian kicked up the door to let the smoke out and daylight in. “What on earth was in that folder?”

“Translation software.”

Adrian took a moment to let the implication sink in, “PeeGee… I swear to you, I didn’t-”

“I know, I know… I trust you, Adrian. You’d use the files as leverage, but never anything beyond that,” she stomped out a small flame on the floor. “Someone else wanted those files and the translation software.”

“Goddamnit, I was their lamb,” he rubbed his neck. “This what it feels like to be on the butcher's table? Anyway... The files are still safe, right? It'll take time to beat the encryption at least.”

“The files, they’re not encrypted,” she hugged herself. “You can’t make sense of them because they’re in an alien language.”

“Ah shit, no wonder you freaked out. They got the key,” Adrian dragged a hand over his face, “What does the key unlock?”

“Look, I don’t know. Let me think...” Power Girl started to pace around the room, muttering to herself. “How long have they been leeching off the connection? Did they have their own all along and just set Adrian up as a diversion? I need to investigate while the trail is still hot, assume that they have all the files.”

Adrian nodded, “Prepare for the worst, hope for the best. A sound strategy. What now?”

“Our deal is still on, but… I don’t know, I’ll have to deal with these new guests somehow.”

“Alright, if you need any help give me a shout. Assuming the D.A. won’t throw my ass in jail.”

She headed for the door and patted him on the shoulder, “They won’t.”


	22. Humor Is the Shortest Bridge Between Two People

Split Sides West Comedy Club had quite the turnout this evening. Packed, yet not overly crowded with a good mood all around. Chatter and laughter swirled around one another, just over the background music. By the sound of it, it was probably a demo tape from some local band. A slightly rocky start with some microphone issues that the staff was currently working out. On tonight’s program was mainly newcomers with a few household names and regulars. Sylvester Pemberton being among them and the main reason why Karen and Rose had taken the trip out. Karen looked at the sound technician checking and double-checking the mic without really looking. The distant gaze caught Rose’s attention and she said, “Ms. Starr? What’s wrong?”

“Not much, just- stuff from work.”

“Oh. Did you have, uh, another argument with Ms. Day at the office?”

The ice in Karen’s glass clattered when she brought it to her lips, “Nah, that’s fine. All things considered. It’s my other work that’s bothering me.”

“Y-you mean the,” she glanced around with anxious eyes before leaning in for a whisper, “the child pornography case?”

Her fingers tapped on the bar counter, an impatient and frustrated rhythm, “Uh-huh.”

“But you took that to the police, didn’t you? They’re pressing charges and everything.”

“Yeah, I guess. It’s just that someone-” Karen got interrupted by the microphone that suddenly sprung to live, giving a loud scream over the speakers. A pained grown ran through the audience, fingers plugged ears and faces contorted into disapproving frowns. 

“Sorry, sorry. My bad,” the sound technician said into the mic. “At least now it’s working. Uh, Bobby? Where’s- ah, okay we’re good to, yeah.”

Karen straightened in her seat, putting her focus on the first performance of the evening rather than yesterday’s incident. After all, it was her idea that she and Rose would head out on the town for some laughs and not talk shop. Stars above knew that Karen could use a few laughs herself after what she’d seen. She did not envy the officers who’d have to go through the mountain of evidence she and Adrian had collected. Not just the quantity of it but also, for the lack of a better term, the quality of it. Shaking her head, Karen took a deep drink from her glass. The cold ice cube leaned onto her lip before clattering against the bottom. While the first act of the evening was finding his groove among sporadic chuckles, Karen gestured to the bartender for a refill. Dad jokes shaved off some of reality’s grim edge.

Debuts and first-timers came without a laughing guarantee. That said, there was reasonable quality. Beer and drinks helped drag the chuckles into laughs, though on a few occasions it backfired with some brutal truths from the back. The timeless classic  _ you suck _ came up just before whoever was on the stage called it quits. It was still important that the audience got some value for their money, which is why they brought on some sure-win locals to turn the ship around. Sylvester took to the stage riding on a wave of cheers and applause, toasting his whiskey glass before getting his trusty guitar ready. Poking fun of the crowd while making some last-minute tuning of his guitar diffused the tension that had built up. His material wasn’t new, but it was solid nonetheless. Well, not new to Karen, but she’d gone to nearly all of his shows ever since she moved to Los Santos. She’d even hired him as entertainment for a StarrWARE event last year and the two of them had become acquainted. His humor might be a tad on the crude side for Rose’s taste, but she looked to  have a good time. Almost spitting out her drink at a few jokes. Pity she was too shy to laugh out loud, just smiling and rocking with laughter without a sound. Sylvester finished his whiskey with a grimace and strung his guitar, starting his last song for the evening:

_ Here we are dear old friend _

_ You and I drunk again _

_ Laughs have been had and tears have been shed _

_ Maybe the whiskey's gone to my head _

_ But if I were gay _

_ I would give you my heart _

_ And if I were gay _

_ You'd be my work of art _

_ And if I were gay _

_ We would swim in romance _

_ But I'm not gay _

_ So get your hand out of my pants _

Chilled Dr. Pepper found its way up to Karen’s nostrils while the whole room exploded in cheers and laughter followed by sporadic applause. Sylvester left the stage on a high note, both literary and figurately. Navigating through the audience while getting high-fives and handshakes left and right, he finally made it to the bar. He was on the top of his game, smiling and just bubbling with that goofy boyish charm of his, “Karen! And friends.”

“Hi Sly, this is Rose. I think you two have met?”

“Could be. A pleasure either way Rose,” he made an exaggerated gentleman’s bow before taking a seat between the two of them. Looking around he said, “So… uh, ladies’ night or?”

“What you see is what you get,” Karen said.

Sylvester waggled his eyebrows and put his arms over their shoulders, “Well, well now. Don’t mind if I do.”

Rose stiffened at his touch; her pained eyes started immediately to look for a way out. Before Sylvester took notice, Karen pinched his cheek a little and gave it a good rattle, “Who’s a good boy? Huh? Who’s a good boy?”

“Oh, is that how we’re going to play it tonight?” turning his full attention to Karen he fiddled with her hand to free his cheek. His face grew serious for a moment, “Sure it’s okay though?”

Karen shrugged, “Sure, why not?”

“Well, it’s just- you have a guy and I don’t wanna… y’know.”

“Not anymore. We split.”

He lifted an eyebrow, “That a fact? So this, is this like your celebration of the single life night? Cause if that’s the case, drinks on me.”

A giggle escaped Karen, her hand patted his arm, “No silly. It’s a while back. Don’t mind a drink though. Rose?”

Rose appeared much more relaxed now that Sylvester’s arm wasn’t hanging over her shoulders. Perking up at the sound of her name, she raised her glass and said, “Uh, no thanks. I’m good.”

“Alright. Hey, Freddy. Freddy, my man,” Sylvester snapped his fingers a few times while he talked with a slightly arrogant tone demanding attention. All in good humor though, “Can we get, uh, a Jack Coke and- whaddya want Karen?”

“Sex on the beach.”

Sylvester winked at her, “Damn lady, moving a bit fast there, aren’t ya?”

Her elbow found his side, “The drink you idiot. And wipe that stupid-looking grin off your face.”

The three of them enjoyed the remaining acts and stuck around for some time afterward just chatting. Witty banter danced between Sylvester and Karen before he went on to tell one of his funny stories. Somewhere, somehow the story about Sylvester and his guitar teacher took the shape of an improvised musical. Complete with a simple tune to match. Although there was some frustration to every note he missed, it all got laughed off and forgotten in a myriad of silly faces. As closing hour came close, Karen and Rose’s faces hurt from all the smiling while the giggling never really left them. The three of them stood outside the comedy club, Karen and Rose waiting for their ride and Sylvester keeping them company, “Yah, I’m going for pizza. Yeah, pizza sounds good.”

“Pizza is awesome,” Karen said. “Tastes great hot. Tastes great cold. Best thing humanity has ever made. Ever.”

“I know right?! Move over NASA- this, this is the real shit. Right here. Round- like bread with bacon and pineapple on.”

Karen looked at him for a moment, the dots in her mind needed some extra seconds to properly connect, “You on team pineapple too?”

“Hell yeah! They give me shit for it though.”

She snorted, “Pfft, peasants. Look at ‘em, wallowing around and- you sir, have very refined tastes.”

“Why thank you, fair madam,” Sylvester almost faceplanted down on the sidewalk as he made another exaggerated bow. “A-and in the interest of cultivating our refined taste for the betterment of humankind... m’lady, would- would you like to be the mother of my children?”

Maybe it was the tone of his voice, maybe it was the slight buzz from the alcohol, or perhaps it was the funny face he made as he spoke. Or maybe all of the above. Whatever it was, Karen started to laugh and for the life of her couldn’t stop. Her merry and contagious laughter lured a chuckle out of Rose and some weird wheezing noises from Sylvester. Between his lobster-red face and tears popping out of Karen’s eyes, she somehow tried to insist that he’d stop otherwise she’d piss herself. It turned into a string of agonizing minutes of trying exceptionally hard to stop laughing, but the harder the effort to keep it in, the more the laughter wanted to come out. As luck would have it though, no one pissed themselves. Wheezing good nights and sweet dreams, Karen and Rose fumbled themselves into the car when it finally arrived. It took the bulk of the ride down to the  harbor for the two women to settle down. As much as their bellies hurt, it was all in all worth it. Tomorrow’s hangover included.

* * *

“For the Mistress of Might, amen,” the words were on everyone’s lips as they rose from their seats and bowed towards the stage. Idle chatter filled the room as the faithful of the First Sons mingled while others took their leave. It was late and children now blessed to face another day needed to be tucked into bed. 

Kala patted down her face with a handkerchief in an effort to wipe it clean from sweat. With warmer weather and longer days, the lack of modern luxuries such as air conditioning became apparent. People had been almost eager to join her sermons during the winter, huddling everyone together in a single room helped them share the warmth. Now though, behind the mist of their drowsy eyes was a growing hint of reluctancy. She shook the doubts out of her head and looked up at the stained-glass window that stood center above the stage. It was quite the image, with their Mistress of Might at its center, arms stretched out to welcome all of her Sons while the wicked fell dead at Her feet. The impure and unworthy pleaded from the shadows for salvation as the world burned around them, though Kala’s Mistress stood as a firm and just guardian of the utopian kingdoms of the high heavens that were shown as a blinding, golden gate at the very top of the window. She took a long, deep breath. The growing limitations her condition put on her constrained and shackled themselves around her chest. What should have been a peaceful exhale tumbled and fell from her frame in a series of choughs. They took their greedy toll on Kala, each seemingly inviting three more of its kind to join in on the fray. When she finally did regain her composure, she was left battered and drained. It was true what people said, the sands of time slow down for no one.

“Doctor Kapur? Are you alright?” Lucy asked as the last member left, closing the door behind him.

Lucy, together with Cain and Able stood at the bottom of the stage. As far as Kala was concerned, they were among the more capable and competent members. Therefore, only they could be entrusted with such an important task, “Yes. I've had a vision. A vision of what I need to fully awaken the dormant potential you have as the Mistress’ Sons.”

“Forgive me, but I've heard rumors that you’ve already had succeeded in this endeavor,” Lucy frowned.

Kala nodded as she started to pace back and forth on the stage, “Yes. True, true... but to be honest, it’s only a step in the right direction. The... awoken are more controllable now compared to the past. They can understand commands and do tricks. But so can a dog.”

“They’re not yet sentient.”

She smiled, “That’s what I like about you Lucy... so smart and quick to understand.”

Cain crossed his arms over his broad chest, his fluffy fiery red beard wobbled as he spoke, “What do you ask of us prophet?”

“There’s some equipment that will help refine the serum used to awaken the Mistress’ Sons. My team used it during my time at Humane Labs,” she pinched the bridge of her nose. “But I can’t say with honesty that it is still there. There's a chance they sold it off to keep the company afloat. Even so, we have to try.”

"Listen, doctor, I doubt that they’ll lend us this equipment.”

“No. No, I suppose not,” Kala muttered. “But our cause is good, noble and just. We must be ready, for if we fail to awaken the Mistress’ Sons to their full potential, we will perish along with the old world. And suffer eternally.”

Abel grunted, “We’ve got guns. Lucy here’s a damn good shot if I may say so myself. Good instructor too. What are those eggheads gonna do? Splash water on us?”

“Just what kind of equipment are we talking about here?” Cain asked.

Kala looked around, lost for a moment, “I had- there are notes. Can't remember if I saved those brochures that we got when they were first brought in but- Take the awoken with you. They'll cause enough distraction for you to go in and get what you need.”

One of Lucy’s eyebrows trekked upwards, “Isn’t that a bit... excessive doctor?”

“No. No, it is not,” Kala stepped down from the stage a headed for the door. “Humane Labs had contracts. Government-issued, defense department. The security guards are competent and will no doubt call for back-up.”

“If that’s the case, we might have to recover our secondary stocks of weapons first,” Lucy pointed out. “In the event that the authorities come after us with a vengeance, we better be ready.”

Abel nodded eagerly, “Yeah. Yeah, we should definitely do that. Can we perhaps do them both at the same time?”

“If we’re going to do it that way, we’ll have to pick them up before we hit the lab.”

Cain and Abel both muttered something about cursed luck under their breaths which prompted Lucy to add, “Listen, I don’t feel like running around in Los Santos subway system to collect guns with a SWAT team or two on our tail.”

“Our weapons are in the subway system? Why?” Kala demanded.

Lucy shrugged and shook her head, “We’ve been placing orders that by themselves aren’t enough to raise eyebrows, but when you’re asking people to store all our ordered guns in their homes, they get antsy. So, they hid them. They’ve put on protective wards from the Mistress’ sacred writings on the storage, so it’s safe.”

“You’d have to split up,” Kala said. The trio looked at her with surprise. She shook her head and said, “To be honest, I don’t feel comfortable bringing the awoken into the city. Lucy, give Cain the locations of the weapons so he can collect them. Abel, join Lucy and assist her in claiming what is ours by divine right.”

Lucy scratched her temple, “Right… we’ll take the Great Ocean Highway to Humane Labs. I think it’s better to give Cain a head start so he has a chance of getting back to camp with the weapons in the event that the authorities follow us all the way to the gates.”

“If we’re gonna be smart about it, we should take the North Calafia Way on our way back,” Abel squinted his eyes and looked up at the ceiling as he spoke. “Shake off our pursuers in Grapeseed. I know that place like the back of my hand.”

Kala stomped her crutch on the floor like a judge who’d reached a verdict, “It’s decided then. Cain, leave as soon as you’re ready. Lucy, Abel – once Cain leaves start preparing the awoken for the trip. I want this over and done with.”

***

Karen pushed open the glass and metal front door to the Pump & Run Gymnasium. The self-closing mechanism on the door had been set to stubborn. Most likely as a ploy to get new potential members to feel weak and in dire need of a good workout, and members good about their latest progress. To Karen its efforts to hold her back barely registered, the muscles on her arm tensed and flexed for just a fleeting second. Her blond, half-dried hair still fresh from the shower was a semi contained mess. Much like her hastily packed duffle bag that left the tail of her towel dangling. The annoyed look on her face was much like a rubber band stretched to the brim, just waiting for an excuse to fly off in the first and best direction it saw fit, “I need those weights babe...” she muttered to herself as she mimicked some sad fool whose ego was as inflated as his disproportional build.

Not really seeing where she was going, lost in her own little fantasy world where narcissistic gym members and overrated equipment got sent flying, Karen rounded a corner and bumped into someone. Snapping back to reality, she saw the poor man stagger forward in an effort to regain his balance, “Oh, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. No worries, I'm- Karen?”

“Sly? Fancy seeing you here.”

Sylvester adjusted the guitar case he had over his shoulder while at the same time he tried to balance a cheap paper plate with a half-eaten slice of cake on top. They say clothes make the man and that was certainly true for Sylvester. He'd always gone for something casual for his comedy shows, so seeing him styled up an extra few notches was a treat to the eyes. It's amazing what a blazer, a shirt, and a neat set of pants could do for a man. A recent stop at the hairdresser didn’t hurt either, “Looking sharp Sly. I like it. What's the occasion?”

He didn’t answer. In fact, Sylvester didn’t do much beyond gaping like a gutted fish. Blinking your eyes was apparently so last year that he’d left it in the dust. It wasn’t until Karen waved her hand in front of his face that he snapped out of his little trance. Adverting his eyes, the top of his ears turned red while he scratched his nose, “Huh? Oh... yeah. Sorry, I- just surprised. Never knew that- You're... so big.”

A downward glance on herself made Karen aware of what she was actually wearing. The simple sports bra, shorts, and sneakers combo put her physique on full display. Early hints of a spring tan-colored her skin, her stomach flat, and firm with a tease of a six-pack. Thick arms didn’t have much fat smoothing out their curves, so her muscles were well defined. Especially under the noon sun. Her clean-shaven thighs protested under the confinements of her shorts whenever her leg muscles flexed. Whether it was because someone had butchered them in the wash or because Karen had some more gains after her injury was anyone's guess. Nothing to be ashamed of per se. If anything, Karen took pride in her body and certainly didn’t mind flaunting it on her own terms. Lastly, Karen noticed that she had forgotten to tie her shoelace. Kneeling down to tie her shoe, Karen smiled to herself. A smile half lost between clever and sadistic. There was something about bashful guys that just to Karen, right under her skin. Putting some effort into making her voice have a stern edge to it she said, “You like them big huh...”

“Well, uh- yeah. It's nice. No! I mean, not like that.”

Rising to her full height Karen gave him an assuring smile and planted her palm at the top of his head, “Chill Sly. I'm only messing with you.”

He let out a heavy sigh of relief, “Christ, I thought I was going to have a heart attack. Or my arm torn off.”

“Look, don’t be stupid. You know I'd never do that,” she nodded at the paper plate. “So, ah... what’s with that?”

“Birthday party.”

“Oh-kay? Congratulations? You're old enough to start on your driver's license.”

Sylvester shot her a pout, “I know I'm short, but I'm not that short. Some rich kid had a party and his parents hired me for entertainment.”

They started walking together down the street, “And they paid you in cake?”

“Cake is awesome,” he said before adding, “Don’t worry, the gig paid well and I got both the kids to laugh.”

“Not the parents?”

Sylvester frowned and thought for a moment, “I think one of the ladies was clutching her pearls, so that’s something. What about you? Just finished your set or workout or whatever?”

“Kind of. I was looking for a new place to get a good workout. Doing it at home on my own is all good and dandy, but I also wanted to have a change of scenery. Meet new people. That kind of thing.”

“And how did that work out for you?” Sylvester said with a clever smile on his lips while making dual finger guns at her.

“Not great,” Karen gave him a light nudge in acknowledgment of his little pun, “If you look at it, you’ll realize that it’s a nationwide franchise of gymnasiums marketed primarily to bodybuilders, people wanting to have sex with bodybuilders, and bodybuilders wanting to have sex with each other.”

“Ah, not your kind of crowd?”

She nodded, “Been there, done that. Fun for a little while, but that’s about it.” The two of them stopped at a cross-section, “Where to?”

“Oh, I was going to head back to my place,” Sylvester pointed a thumb in one direction. “Just chill. Get out of these clothes. Watch some anime.”

Karen pressed the button so they could cross the street as soon as the lights changed, “Watch what now?”

A barely audible shit slipped past Sylvester’s teeth as he seemed to kick himself mentally as if he'd messed up, “It’s these- nevermind. It's nothing.”

“No come on Sly, tell me,” her voice was soft, intertwined with genuine care and interest.

His shoulders slumped. Cracking his neck and steeling himself for something he said, “Japanese cartoons. They’re Japanese cartoons.”

Traffic lights changed, cars stopped and people crossed over. Some picking up speed to catch the light, “Are they any good?”

“Huh?” Judging by the look on Sylvester’s face, that was not the response he was expecting. Confusion still clouded his eyes; he inched his neck just a tad closer so he could hear better as if he wanted to make sure he didn’t get his hopes up in vain.

“These cartoons. Are they any good?” she started to cross the street, in the direction of Sylvester’s home. 

“Ah, yeah? Yeah,” glancing over her shoulder Karen saw in the corner of her eye Sylvester catching up, his face lit up with this adorable little brother-like smile that could outshine the sun. Simmering excitement started to bubble as he continued to talk, “I mean there’s something for everyone really. So much, so different moods, themes, genres. People dismiss them because they’re cartoons, but let me tell you.”

And that he did. Nonstop the whole way home. Karen did little to interrupt his talk or rather gushing aside from subtle questions of which way they should take. And even then, she was quick to follow up with a question about whatever character or series he had just talked about. Rinse and repeat until Karen excused herself and asked if it was okay for her to borrow his bathroom. It took about half a minute of Karen checking her hair in the mirror before her keen ears caught the first hints that Sylvester realized his predicament. The rapid breath while muttering to himself, the frantic last-minute cleanup that tried really hard to keep the sound level at an all-time low. At some point, a toe got reintroduced to its old enemy, the coffee table. As were tradition, they exchanged greetings in the form of muffled profanity.

Looking around in the bathroom Karen saw that Sylvester was a bachelor through and through, balls to bone. Not that it was a disaster area in terms of messiness or cleanliness. It was neat enough and while not clean as a whistle, Karen could tell that it got a decent scrub down once or twice a week. Nevertheless, it was obvious that the place lacked a woman’s touch. Things were laid out with a more practical and convenient mindset rather than what would look good; clean towels stacked on top of the drying machine, which by the way was filled with socks, t-shirts, and boxers. Why go through the hassle of folding them and storing them in the bedroom drawer when you could just fish a clean set straight from the dryer? Especially when the shower was not even half a step away. In a bathroom, this small two was a crowd, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Karen slipped into some baggy sweatpants and a t-shirt that once upon a time showed a horror movie motif, but had now almost been lost to the washing machine. A purr escaped her as she wiggled her toes on the heated tiled floor, “Didn’t know I needed that. Why don’t I have that in my bath?”

“Okay, uh, can I get you anything? I'm not much of a coffee person, but I think I've got some tea. Unless it got so old that it decided to walk out on me,” Sylvester’s voice remained a tad flustered while he went through his kitchen cupboards.

“Never cared for coffee either. Just water is fine Sly,” she picked up a DVD case. Colorful letters in a language she didn’t recognize were plastered on the cover along with a cast of character with some very creative hairstyles. “What do you recommend we watch?”

“I have a bit of everything, mostly comedy but, uh... what are you in the mood for?”

She smiled, leaning against the kitchen counter next to him, and rested her cheek on top of his head, “I’d like to laugh.”

“Yeah? In that case,” Sylvester hurried away from her and went over his DVD collection, “you can’t go wrong with this one.”

“School Rumble. At least I can read the title, so that’s something.”

Sylvester made true on his promise. The anime proved to be a smash hit with Karen who spurted out her water on several occasions, something that only made her laugh even more. Reading subtitles took a couple of episodes to get used to, but even then, the visual gags were more than entertaining. They ended up binge-watching the entire first season. With each episode, Karen sneaked a little bit closer to Sylvester until they were neatly cuddled together. Pineapple leftover pizza was served around the halfway mark through the season and they’d probably gone through the second season as well had it not gotten so late. Sylvester was still chuckling when he ejected the DVD, “Yo, you with me over the Karen, or did you die laughing?”

“Not the worst way to go,” she rubbed her eyes. “Stars and stone, I don’t know what hurts the most; my gut from laughing or my eyes. Even my contacts have dried up.”

“Aw, that sucks. So, uh, do you want me to call you a cab?”

Putting on her most adorable kitten face possible, Karen said, “You see... I was kinda hoping you’d let me crash here for the night.”

“Don’t you have work tomorrow?”

“I’ll call in late. Or sick,” she added under her breath, “lovesick...”

Sylvester fidgeted on the spot, torn between options. After considering it for a moment he said, “Alright. Sure. Let me just- let me get some clean sheets for the bed and I'll take the sofa.”

A miffed frown came over Karen’s face though instead of saying anything she inspected the sofa. L shaped and decent enough for sitting in, it was hard to imagine that it’d be comfortable to sleep in. It wasn’t deep enough so as far as Karen was concerned, sleeping meant a high risk of tumbling over the edge and splat all over the floor. From the bedroom she heard Sylvester rummage through his closet, mumbling to himself. It was adorable the way he started talking to himself whenever he got flustered. If anything, it made Karen want to tease him more. Sneaking up on him, she pounced on him like a playful cat. A yelp escaped him before he settled in her strong arms embrace, “Look, don’t worry about it. Let's just share the bed. Come on, I'll help with the sheets.”

“Yeah but-”

“Sly, look at me,” her finger found his chin and raised his gaze so it met hers. “It's okay. I don’t mind. Really.”

He sighed, “Fine. Careful with the sheets, there’s a-”

“Ow!” Karen pulled back her hand, a small cut could be seen at the tip of her finger with tiny red pearls of blood popping out.

“...nail. Hang on, I think I've got some band-aid in the bathroom,” Sylvester said before he left for the bathroom. “Nothing against a Hello Kitty band-aid, I hope? Or do you prefer, uh, what’s this? Lego? Huh, didn’t know I had that one. Kinda cool actually.”

A subtle taste of iron filled Karen’s mouth as she sucked on her injured finger, “Anything’s fine. I'm not that caught up on my looks.”

Some quick first aid and a fresh set of bedsheets later they were finally ready for bed. Ironically, they were now too tired to fall asleep and spent their time chatting in the dark. Heavy eyelids, drowsy voices all while wrapped in the dark blanket of the night had its own appeal. The long pauses between changing subjects dragged out moments between questions and answers. It was nice, just being there in the moment. Together. 

“Hey. Wanna hear something stupid?” Sylvester asked.

“What?”

“When I,” he yawned, “when I first saw you today, I could swear you were just like that Power Girl chick.”

Karen drew a breath and held it, “Really?”

“Stupid right?”

“Why’s that?”

“Hmm?”

She poked his nose with her injured finger, “Why am I like her?”

“Y’know”, he tried to shrug but the fat pillow and quilt muffled his movement, “tall, blonde. Big.”

“Wow, you know just what she looks like, huh?”

“Mm, saw her once. She chased down some bank robbers. Slammed face-first into the ongoing traffic,” he scoffed out a laugh. “Feel bad about it now, but then and there I couldn’t help but laugh. It was like straight out an anime. But when she stood back up. Oooh, shivers.”

Karen inched closer, the warmth of his breath tickled and brushed over her cheeks. She smiled, though it was unlikely that he saw it, “That’s not stupid.”

“Uh-huh?” his hand folded over hers, a finger ran over the band-aid. “Power Girl doesn’t bleed from poking her finger on nails.”

“Okay, that’s just silly. I'll give you that.”

“Gee, thanks,” he said dryly.

“Aw, don’t get mad,” she teased and inched even closer. Her lips found his, leaving behind a soft kiss. Her voice came out on a soft whisper, “Look. Here, I'll make it up to you.”

She took his hand, slipped it underneath the quilt, and guided it to her breast. His fingers hesitated. In the darkness, Karen couldn’t make out his face, just a blob of a head bundled up in a pile of shadow. She pressed his palm a little firmer against her to remove any doubt, then let go of the hand. Sylvester took a deep breath, exhaled, and as he did, his hand retreated. Before Karen could voice a protest one way or the other, he turned his back to her before he said, “Good night Karen.  Sweet dreams .”


	23. Role Reversal

Power Girl trekked down the length of the Raton Canyon; the night rested over the landscape like a thick dark carpet. Far in the distance, she heard the highway traffic, though even to her sensitive ears it was a muffled whisper. Compared to the city the canyon was like a quiet winter day that swallowed up most sounds with its thick, fluffy snow. Its peace and quiet was a welcome change to the often draining busy noises of the hive known as human civilization. Another perk was all the smells. So many flavors, especially at this time of the year. Nature was like a grand orchestra for the senses, playing the grand melody of life for anyone interested in listening. Power Girl smiled to herself, “I should come out here more often.”

The sound of a couple of voices caught her attention. She slowed down and focused. Bickering by the sounds of it. Something about someone forgetting something and refusing to acknowledge the fact. Power Girl half shrugged and started to examine the ground below, trying to trace a path to the voice's origin. A small camp in the pitch darkness of the night, it’d been near impossible to spot had not the moonlight reflected off a wristwatch. She made her decent, “Good evening, is there a problem?”

Both campers jolted at her quiet arrival and were so flustered that they just stammered and tripped over their words. While Power Girl waited for them to gather their wits, she caught a sound. Faint and she’d surely missed it had she been focused on the so-called conversation. A rustle in the bushes behind the campers. She squinted her eyes, trying to see through the bundle of leaves and branches, but the moon sipped past a cloud so the night grew darker still. By now the campers noticed something was off and fell deadly silent.

A roar cut through the night as a great shadow leaped from the bush. It all took a fraction of a second. Power Girl stepped up between the campers, shoving them aside. Her raised hand caught something warm and soft. The roar got cut short. A large weight fell upon her, her foot scraped against the graveled covered ground as she stabilized her footing. Paws and claws flailed about her face. Securing a grip with her free hand, Power Girl tossed the animal back into the bush. It scuffled away into the night in a hurry, leaving behind an eerie calm.

“Sweet Jesus, that was a puma wasn’t it?” one of the campers gasped. He patted himself down, assuring himself that he still had all arms and fingers in place.

“Looks like it’s gone now. You should get a fire going, that ought to do the trick.”

The other camper fell on one knee and took her hand, resting her knuckles on his forehead, “Mistress, we thank you.”

“Uh, yeah... you’re welcome sir,” Power Girl pulled her hand free and shook it as if she’d dipped it into something repulsive. “Now about that fire.”

“Jerry forgot to pack the lighter.”

“I did not! You're the one that-”

“Okay, okay, okay! Cut it out, both of you,” Power Girl injected. She took a deep sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose, “Do you have fuel for the fire at least?”

The man named Jerry sulked over to their fireplace, “Everything’s here Mistress.”

“Good, we can make this work,” she looked down at the fireplace, focusing her gaze on a single log. Her eyes grew to a bright orange shine, illuminating her eye sockets. A thin trail of smoke started to  rise and soon a small flame started to lick the log. Power Girl repeated the process for a couple of other logs and soon they had a fire going. “Would you look at that? I trust you gentlemen will be able to keep it going until dawn?”

This time both men went down on their knee, clutching their hands in prayer, “Yes! Yes, Mistress. We will. I swear it!”

“Oh-kay then... have a good night you two.”

A few hours later and Power Girl swung by the sheriff’s office to hand over a drunken driver, “Sheriff's out?”

“Yeah, just got a call a few minutes back,” the deputy officer said while he cuffed the driver.

“Are you new here by any chance? Haven’t seen you before.”

He nodded and offered his hand, “Yeah, name’s Reggie Rowe. I just started last week.”

“Power Girl, a pleasure,” she gave his hand a firm squeeze. “Oh yeah, just a little head up. There are a couple of campers up in the canyon. Just in case they didn’t check in with you guys before heading out.”

“Yeah? Appreciate it, we've had some cases of missing hikers lately.”

She held the door open for Reggie so they could take the drunken driver to the holding cells, “No problem, this was an odd duo. Forgetting to bring a lighter. Treating me like some... dunno, goddess?”

Reggie laughed softly at that, “Yeah, well... it’s quite common in these parts. They might be pilgrims, heading for the holy land.”

One of Power Girl’s eyebrows raised with curiosity, “Mind filling me in on that, deputy?”

“Can’t say I know all of it, but,” he closed the cell door, “there is this new age like group that set up camp situated in the heart of the Chiliad Mountain State Wilderness. Word has it that they use you as their patron goddess. Ah, they’re a harmless bunch though.”

She pondered it over for a few minutes, “Think there is a connection between the camp and missing hikers?”

Reggie shrugged and plumped back down in his seat by the reception, “We’ve checked with them, but they keep to themselves for the most part. The few hikers that they meet are turned away.”

“Hmm... interesting. I'll keep my eyes peeled for those hikers. Take care deputy.”

“You too ma’am, you too.”

* * *

There was something about the kitchen that Karen had never quite realized until she’d taken time to let it all sink in. Smells, not just spices as they got applied and lingered in the air, but how they mutated, grew, and evolved. Intertwingling and weaving in, out, over, and under one another over the course of meal preparation. On top of that was the sounds. Sizzling frying pan, bubbling pots that made the lids dance around the edges, and of course the rapid sound of a knife against the cutting board. At the eye of this storm of the senses stood Ted, stoic with busy hands and his trusty apron firmly in place. His glory days as a marine might be a thing of the past, but his frame was still  impressive for a man of his age. His knife stopped chopping before he threw a glance over his shoulder. There was this tainted shine to his eye. Not really straight up fear, not even nervousness. Just this uneasy hint of nerves tensing, relaxing, tensing, relaxing. He shook his head, sweat glinting on his brow, “It’ll be ready when it’s ready.”

“Ted, you’re a guy, right?”

“Last time I checked, yeah.”

Karen sprawled out over the table like a deflated balloon, “Ever turned down an offer for sex?”

The knife clattered against the cutting board, “What? Where in the blazes did that come from?”

“Have you?”

Ted lifted the lid of a pot, steam bellowing out in a thick cloud. While stirring its content he said, “Can’t say I have, no.”

“I know, right? It's just so weird. No matter how I look at it, it’s just weird.”

“Maybe you weren’t clear enough,” he shrugged. “Lotta guys are dense, like an old dried up concrete truck kinda dense.”

“Look, I was pretty clear okay? I put his hand on my tit Ted. After I kissed him, I might add.”

Ted leaned against the counter, wiping his hands on his apron, “Damn. That's pretty clear.”

She straightened with a start, her arm flailing with frustration, “See?! So why in the blazing stars-” Karen could not finish, her words consumed by angry sounds that set the back of her throat ablaze.

“How did he take it?”

"He wished me a good night and turned his back on me,” Karen crossed her arms and bundled herself up in a big pout.

Ted's hands spread out in a helpless gesture, “Can’t help ya, sorry. What's your next move gonna be?”

“Looks like we’re going to ‘ _ play it by the book _ ’ this time around,” Karen said while adding quotation marks with her fingers. “The good captain insisted on doing a background check before letting him onboard. Guess she doesn’t want another incident.”

Although Ted didn’t say anything, it was clear on his face that he had a whole host of thoughts on the subject. Just then Captain Sato joined them, “Speak of the devil. What can I get ya captain?”

“Nothing Mr. Grant, I’m good thanks. Ma'am? A moment please.”

“You’ve had your little sneak peek captain. May I please, pretty please with sugar on top invite the good Sylvester onboard this mighty fine ship?”

Ted looked away and killed a laugh in its infancy. Captain Sato on the other hand didn’t look amused. In fact, she didn’t look like anything, just a crisp clean poker face that did little to betray her thoughts. She did give a quick nod at Karen before she said, “We found nothing of interest. No criminal record or financial issues. Nothing scheduled for the day either. If you’re so inclined, you can invite him over.”

“Thank you,” Karen mouthed the words with an exaggerated expression while she fiddled with her phone. After a little moment, the call connected, “Sly? Hi, it’s Karen. Yeah. Uh-huh, look I was wondering if you don’t have anything planned for today, would you like to come over to my place? Uuuh, yeah? Okay, neat. We- uh-huh, if you just park at Puerto Del Sol Marina and I’ll meet you there.”

Sometime later that day, Karen sauntered around on the Puerto Del Sol Marina’s parking lot. It’d been a week since she’d seen Sylvester. For the occasion, she’d put on a V-neck, half-sleeved long dress which put the bulk of her physique under wraps while highlighting her feminine curves. The high heeled shoes were brand new and this was a good time as any to walk them in. Even if that meant Karen had to cheat a little. A few times she’d messed up and probably staggered around without a shred of grace had she not caught herself with just a pinch of flight to regain her balance. As handy as the trick was, it was also hard to pull off since Karen had to make it look natural. Almost fall, but don’t without giving away that she toggled off gravity’s hold on her at the drop of a coin. 

The sound of car breaks that could probably use some service caught her sensitive ears, prompting Karen to look up towards the entrance gate. Sylvester drove up to park near the office building as Karen greeted him, “I’m not late, am I?”

“You’re fine.”

He squinted in the sun and nodded at the place, “So, uh, is this where you work or something?”

Karen shook her head and took his hand, leading him towards the docks, “No? I could have sworn- wait a minute, you worked with software. Tina- yeah, Tina she was the one that worked at the yacht club.”

“Who’s Tina?”

“Friend of my mom,” he stopped at the top of the docks. Putting on his sunglasses he said, “Oh… oh, you live on a boat? Ah, that’s so cool. I don’t get it- isn’t that cheaper or something than having an apartment?”

“Not the boat I live on, no. You’ll see. Come on, the dingy is this way.”

When Pel had first arrived, he was starstruck by Karen’s yacht. Sylvester, she noted, was less so. He even cracked a joke, asking if Karen was some lost lovechild of either Steve Jobs or Bill Gates. Perhaps it had something to do with him doing gigs for the rich and famous, so being around new money wasn’t all that of a deal. His awkward and reserved manner thawed away over the course of the guided tour she gave him, yet never fully left him. By the time they wrapped it up, Sylvester had a façade of his old self up; laid back always with a witty remark at the ready. Had Karen not known him for as long as she had, he would have fooled her. Rather than comment or put him on the spot she opted to just let things play out at their leisure. They stopped by an open door in the hallway and Sylvester said, “And in here?” 

“That’s the master bedroom,” Karen said, “where the magic happens.”

“I’ve always wanted to have a threesome but I feel it’s a bit delusional on my part,” Karen’s eyebrows rose to new heights at his words. Just before she could speak up, Sylvester added, “I can barely make one woman cum. Let alone a guy right after.”

Snorting out a laugh, she gave his shoulder a light punch, “Jerk.”

“What? Right here and now?” He checked his watch, “A tad early isn’t it? At least take me out for dinner first.”

Karen sighed and smiled, “Stars above, you’re impossible at times. But that’s what I love about you. Come on, let’s pester Ted until he bribes us with snacks.”

It didn’t take much nagging before Ted kicked both of them out of the kitchen with a big plate of watermelon slices. Happy with their haul, the giggling duo retreated outside to some fresh air and a beautiful view of the Vespucci Beach and Del Perro Pier just off to their left. For a while they just stood there, leaning on the rails while eating watermelon. The sound of the sea blended in with a jet ski playing in the waves off somewhere in the distance. Down to the last slice, Karen rested her head on Sylvester’s shoulder, “Stay for dinner. I found this anime we could watch.”

“Second season of School Rumble?”

She closed her eyes and smiled, waves licking the side of the yacht soothing in her ears, “Nah, this one came highly recommended and it looked out of this world.”

“Let me guess… Spirited Away?”

“No,” Karen shook her head and snuggled closer. Pity they were wearing clothes. His warmth on her skin would have been nice right about now. “P- something or another. Paprika. Yeah, that’s it. A pretty redhead on the cover. I liked the look of her smile.”

Sylvester nibbled on the last slice, his eyes looking towards the shore without really seeing. Distant, thinking. Licking his lips, he said, “I can’t. Sorry, there’s a gig later tonight.”

Her hand found his back, tracing soft doodles with her fingers, “That’s okay. There’ll be another time.”

“…yeah.”

* * *

Karen’s phone gave a text message ding early one morning. Her hand flopped aimlessly over the bedside table while she grumbled something incomprehensible into her pillow, “Let’s see who dares to disturb my slumber... blergh- bedsheets, blergh. Oh? Hello Sly, what do you want?”

Lunch later that same day at Mr. Spoke Bike Rental. Karen shifted her shoulders around in an effort to align her suit underneath her regular clothing. Her cape was neatly tucked away in her shoulder bag along with her bracers. A light, fluffy scarf tied around her neck hid the blue-collar on her suit as it would otherwise mismatch her sleeveless top. Only her boots were visible underneath her pants, though it was unlikely that people would take notice. Who looks at people’s feet in this day and age at any rate? Even they do, they won’t see something super unusual.

“You alright there Karen?”

Sylvester’s stealth attack gave her a start before she whirled around. Her hands flailed at him without really hitting him while a burst of annoying laughter escaped her, “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Sorry, not sorry,” his smile lit up his whole face as he put a halfhearted effort into dodging Karen’s onslaught. Catching her wrists, he pushed her hands down, their faces inches apart, “Wanna rent some bikes and-”

Karen planted a light kiss at the tip of his nose. His eyes narrowed at the interruption, “-and have a little race?”

“Tempting, but...”

His eyebrows trekked upwards, “Buuuut...?”

“Look,” she bit on her lower lip. “Promise, promise me you won’t laugh, okay?”

Sylvester rolled his eyes, “Karen if you put it like that, I'll have no choice but to roll on the floor, laughing my ass off. Those are the rules.”

“You see, the truth is,” she started before continuing in a voice small enough to belong to a mouse, “I don’t know how to ride.”

“Seriously?” his whole face made a skeptical frown. Karen just gave a few embarrassed nods. “You? But- you work out. A lot. Don't you like- ride bikes that never go anywhere all the time?”

“I do squats though. Does that count?”

Sylvester took off his baseball cap and ran a hand through his hair, “Well that took a bit of a shit on my plans.”

“Sorry.”

“No, no. Don't worry about it, let’s, uh,” he took her hand, “let’s just go for a walk along the beach, yeah?”

The two of them took their time, a light stroll along the path as joggers and bikers zoomed by at various speeds. Small talk flowed easily between them and silence never sunk down to awkward moments. There was always something that caught their eye, whether it was a street performer or just window shopping on one of the many stands. Coaxed by a sweet-talking ice-cream vendor to make a purchase, Karen and Sylvester pretended to be sports commentators to some local surf boys while they enjoyed their ice-cream. Licking her fingers clean, Karen asked, “So what was your great plan for today?”

“I don’t think it qualifies as great,” Sylvester shrugged and fished out a small box out of his pocket. He handed it over to her, “Figured that since you’re into exercising we’d race. If I won this would be your price, if I lost this would be my I'm-sorry-I-left-you-in-the-dust gift.”

Karen took the box and after a quiet approval from Sylvester, she opened it. Inside she found a small perfume bottle, “Aw... look at it. It's so cute and tiny. Let me just- uhm. Nice, it smells nice. Thanks, Sly, that’s very kind of you.”

“Yeah,” a bashful smile curved his lips, “I try.”

“Looks to me that you’re doing more than just trying Sly. If you ask me, you’re succeeding.”

He blinked at her with a puzzled expression, “I am? Wait, what are we talking about here?”

Karen shrugged, “You. Me. Us being a thing. At least’s what I'm talking about.”

“Ah... that.”

“Sly... look, I’ll be straight and honest with you,” she straightened herself. “I think you’re a great guy and I'd like us to be a thing. But you... look like you’re dragging your feet. If you don’t want to, that’s fine. Just- give it to me straight.”

He looked up at her, squinting in the sun, “We’re a bit of a mismatch, don’t you think?”

“Who isn’t? I'm tall, you’re short. I live on a boat, you live on land,” she made a face and shrugged, “Eh, could be worse. I'm willing to give it a shot.”

Karen put the perfume in her bag when she got interrupted by someone putting their hand on her shoulder, “Babe, are you a parking ticket? Cause your tits got fine written all over 'em!”

“Charming...” she said with a completely deadpan tone, flicking the stranger’s hand off her.

“C’mon babe, don’t you believe in love at first sight?” the stranger looked over his sunglasses, revealing a pair of hungry eyes. “Or should I walk past you again?”

Sylvester stepped up between Karen and the stranger, “Okay, okay. That's enough buddy. We're good thanks.”

The stranger was a solid six feet something so even wearing a second-rate pair of flip-flops he was about Karen’s height. Washed out camo cargo shorts did little to match his unbuttoned purple shirt, though to his credit his golden sunglasses did match his bleached blonde hair. All in all, he looked like a third-rate porn star that was past his prime yet hung on to the notion that he still got it. He loomed closer over Sylvester, their foreheads bumping together as the stranger tried to stare down Sylvester, “Hey. Hey kid, get lost ‘kay? Promise I'll bring her home before midnight, a’right? Go buy yourself another ice-cream. This is an adult-only talk, ya dig?”

“Look, could you just get lost? That'd be great.”

“Babe, don’t be like that,” he shoved Sylvester out of the way hard enough to send him tumbling. Patting his chest to remove any doubt that it was himself he was talking about he added, “Freddy Footlong here will have you howling and begging for more.”

Karen laughed a disgusted laugh, waving her hand in front of her face as if dismissing a disgusting smell, “Footlong? Stars and stone, how pathetic can you be?”

Unphased Freddy grabbed her shoulders and leaned in for a sloppy kiss. Just then Sylvester had gotten back on his feet and tried to pull him off Karen, “I said that was enough!”

“Fuck off!” an elbow shot back and connected with Sylvester’s face. A resounding thwack of bone against bone filled the air, accompanied by a short spray of blood. Two thick torrents of blood poured out from Sylvester’s nostrils as he staggered backward a few steps.

“Hey!” Karen grabbed one of Freddy’s wrists and twisted it behind his back. He yelped in pain, yielding down to his knees. One of her knees found the back of his shoulders and pressed him even further down. Drool hung from his lips in a web of transparent threads, making a sloppy mess on the pavement as apologizes, while curses and cries of pain weaved together in a disgusting melody. 

A small crowd started to form; dozens of stares landed on Karen. Some amused, others shocked. Hands searched through pockets and purses, fishing out cellphones. Her grip loosened a change that Freddy promptly welcomed as he clutched his throbbing wrist. Sylvester was still out of the loop, looking heavenward while pinching his nose to at least try to stop the bleeding. The results were mediocre and it had lefts its mark on his clothes. Opting out of dealing with the police, Karen strode  up to Sylvester, snatched his hand, and pulled him away to a side street. The shade did wonders to cool Karen off as she tended to Sylvester, “Oh. Oh, this looks nasty. Hang on, I think I have some Kleenex in here somewhere.”

“Pathetic,” Sylvester’s voice came out with an odd ring to it from pinching his nose.

“Yeah, add battery and home invasion charges to his sad excuse of a nickname and you’ve got a real piece of work. Guess someone must have bailed him out.”

“What are you talking about Karen?”

She stopped searching through her bag for a second. Latching on to the Kleenex package, she yanked out half-a-dozen napkins and stuffed them on Sylvester’s nose, “Nothing. I think I saw it in the paper or online. You didn’t break anything, did you?”

“Just my pride.”

Karen looked at him with a pained sympathy, “It looks worse than it probably is. Oh, you poor thing. We should get some ice for you.”

He pulled his hand free from her grip, “I’m fine. I'm... fine. Just give me a minute.”

“Sure. Want to sit down?”

“Karen, it’s just a nosebleed. I'm not going to pass out or anything.”

“Yeah but,” she bit her lip and mumbled underneath her breath, “you guys are so fragile.”

A ding came from her cellphone. Checking it Karen saw a reminder that her shift as Power Girl was about to start. If she was smart about it, she’d head out now so she could get changed and stash her clothes somewhere. Which in turn meant dropping Sylvester like a hot potato when that was probably the last thing he needed right now. Apparently, her worries were plain as day on her face since he caught on to it despite half looking up at the sky, “What is it?”

“Work. Look, I'm so sorry. Really Sly, I am. It's just-” Karen made a helpless gesture.

He smiled, white teeth stood in stark contrast to dried up blood, “It’s okay. Get going. We’re a thing now after all, aren’t we?”

* * *

Power Girl ruffled her hair in some feeble attempt to dry it as soon as she got out of the rain. High above a wall of dark grey clouds blotted out the skies, the rumbling of distant thunder made mother nature sound extra grumpy. She followed a couple of police officers down into the subway station, floating over the yellow police line tape instead of scooping underneath it like her coworkers, “So what do you want me to look at again?”

“Some weird shit,” one of the officers said.

“Didn’t know that I got transferred to the weird shit department.”

“To be fair, weird shit is your default,” the other officer said. Adjusting his hat, he nodded towards a security guard, “That’s your guy over there. He'll fill you in.”

The guard was a tall and imposing man of middle age. While most of his bulk appeared to be related to his beer belly, Power Girl sharp eyes suggest that muscle hid under his loose clothes - the result of  irregular weightlifting. His beard was short and almost entirely grey, and his hair is curly and graying at the temples, though it looked like it could use a good wash. Although he wore the standard dark blue of a subway security guard, Power Girl frowned at the gun strapped to his hip, “Good day sir, what do you got for me?”

He turned and after just half a second of eye contact, his gaze went straight south. Where it stopped and was held firmly in place. Power Girl heaved a heavy sigh, it was going to be one of those days. She could mobilize some understanding that the sight of a dozen raindrops trekking down a woman’s cleavage would be hard to resist. There was some flattery in the way many men tried everything short of using toothpicks to keep their eyes from wandering. Power Girl shared her fair share of the blame as she loved to tease coworkers whenever she arrested their so-called clever little glances. It was for the most part a harmless little cat and mouse game of good fun between friends. This was different. The sound of his breathing made that abundantly clear. A drop of water dripped from her nose, “Sir?”

The guard blinked as if snapped out of a dream and decided to fumble something that was meant as a salute, “Uh, yah. William Kidderminster at yer service.”

“Your report, Mr. Kidderminster?”

"Found some weird shit down by the tracks,” he jerked a thumb over his shoulders while his eyes started to wander again. “Gosh darn satanistic shrine. Heard on the telly that kids are into that shit ‘cuz they play too many video games.”

“Right. Could you show me this... shrine?”

She followed William down on the tracks themselves and into the tunnel. The light from his flashlight bounced all over the place. Just as they rounded the bend so that the light of the station couldn’t reach them, Power Girl saw the shrine. When William finally got the flashlight under control, she studied it closer. A few small piles of human-looking bones, chalk lines of symbols and pentagrams, and what looked like a gibberish language all over the ground and walls. She squinted her eyes, “Could you shine on the wall for me please?”

Behind her Power Girl heard William mutter underneath his breath something about Satan and souls. The writing was crude yet there was little mistaking it; this was Kryptonian writing. Grammar and spelling left a lot to be desired, though she saw her name written over and over again. For the most part, it was a jumbled mess of praise and pleas, not all that different from kids writing their first letter to Santa. Power Girl swallowed, her voice tense, “Mr. Kidderminster... when did- tell me everything. How did you discover this?”

“Lemme think... It was while working my sixth graveyard shift of the week that I saw one of the passengers do sumthin’ unusual.”

“Unusual?” she glanced over her shoulder. “In what way?” 

William ran a finger underneath his nose while wearing a gleeful grin, “Her backside was sumthin’ else, I can tell ya that.” 

Power Girl floated higher up to better examine some of the writing, “Focus Mr. Kidderminster.” 

“Uh, right,” he cleared his throat. “Anyways, she, uh, disappeared into the tunnels behind the train, unnoticed by anyone else. I notified the station officer, but uuuh... nothing came of it. Until I saw her again ‘bout a week later.”

“A week later, huh? What happened then?”

“Well, uh, lemme think here,” William fell silent for a few moments. The light from his flashlight trekked off in a weird direction. Power Girl shot an angry look and saw that in his deep pondering, William had crossed his arms over his chest, forgetting that he held the flashlight in the process. “Yeah, so once more despite being surrounded by people on a busy train station, she simply ran off into the subway tunnels behind the train. Like, the hell, right? So, I grab her and go all like;  _ Stop, ya stupid bitch! Ya'll be hit by a damn train! _ ”

Power Girl snatched his flashlight and shined it down on a piece of bone in her hand, “Plastic. Movie prop or something like that. What happened to the woman Mr. Kidderminster?”

Silence. A beat came and went. Power Girl looked up; William was looking down. Eyes wide enough to roll out from their sockets like a couple of pearls, drinking and licking greedily from the golden gates of the high heavens. The pace at which his warm breath washed over her skin gave her goosebumps. She gave his head a light, yet satisfying thwack with the back of the flashlight. His panting stopped with a resounding, “Ouch! Whadday do that for ya stupid bitch?!”

“Focus! Mr. Kidderminster, focus. Where's the woman now?”

Sullen and rubbing his head, William muttered, “Why do ya even wear that outfit if ya don’t want me to take a look?”

Power Girl brows snapped together just as she returned the flashlight with a smack in his palm, “Look Mr. Kidderminster... I get that my choice of clothing can be seen as an invitation to have a look. However, it is NOT an invitation to stare, gawk or leer to the point where you’re unable to participate in a basic fucking conversation! Are you picking up what I'm putting down?”

“Y-yes ma’am...”

She gave him a smile of forced politeness and tested patience, “Good. Now, the woman Mr. Kidderminster? What happened to the... stupid bitch that almost got run over by the train?”

“Well, uh, she- she put up a fight.”

“Oh, did she now? I can’t imagine why...”

“So naturally I pistol-whipped her as soon as she tried to get back on the train and then had her arrested.”

Power Girl raised an eyebrow, “On what charges?”

“Murder, kidnapping, grave robbery...” he gestured vaguely at the shrine. “That ain’t normal. Instead of attending church they’re out whoring themselves out. Sellin' their souls to the devil or some shit.”

“I see. Anything else?”

“Uh, gimme a moment to think... I think it was the next morning...? I followed another woman out of the train and down this here tunnel.” 

“Hmm, I take it she was arrested too? Or at least taken in for questioning?” she started towards the subway station again.

William shook his head, “Nope. That incident ended when I shot and killed her.”

“Excuse me? You what now?” Power Girl stopped dead in her tracks.

“Ma’am, I'm the son of staunch believers. Now I haven’t always walked the straight ‘n’ narrow, I admit. But I was and still am convinced this was Satan's own magic used against me.”

“Let me see if I get this straight; you shot and killed a woman over... some chalk lines and plastic bones?”

He blinked for a moment, “I, uh, feared for my life. My soul. Some pretty ungodly shit was happening down there. I wasn’t goin’ to risk it.”

Power Girl shook her head and headed back to the station. She checked with the other officers on site to follow up on the arrested woman. Apparently, she was let go shortly after given a stern warning, as she was a first-time offender. Sloppy paperwork muddled the trail, so Power Girl would have to look into it in detail later. For now, she settled with having the good Mr. Kidderminster arrested before resuming her patrol duties. 


	24. Impossible

Logistics and time management had always been long-time enemies of Karen. Keeping up with StarrWARE along with whatever shenanigans she got caught up with as Power Girl was daunting enough. Trying to squeeze in something that resembled a private life in-between these rather incompatible pieces was a nightmare. That said, these quiet and lazy moments together with Sylvester were worth their weight in gold and then some as far as Karen was concerned. Smearing out all over his sofa, nibbling on a slice of pizza, or fish out that last shrimp from some Chinese takeaway while watching anime was an almost perfect way to unwind after a long day at two jobs. Almost.

They've been going steady for a few weeks now and so far, nothing. Sure, they hugged, held hands, and even kissed each other goodbye. But that was about it. Once she’d managed to get him to give her a shoulder massage while wearing a low-cut top, giving him a free view practically all the way south. Sylvester had stolen some glances here and there, but never beyond what a gentleman would allow himself. Sure, there was something adorable about the wholesome purity of it all, and Karen had taken a step back in hopes that things would sort themselves out naturally. But by now her patience was running dry. So today was the day Karen decided. It was time for those dreadful words to be uttered. Hopefully for the first and last time in their relationship, “Sylvester. We need to talk.”

He stopped eating; a couple of noodles dangled from his mouth. Slurping them up with some assistance from the chop-stick he straightened in his seat, “Oh-kay... Is this about the toilet brush? Cause I was going to get a new one.”

“Now that you mention it, it's pretty gross. Looks like it’s ready to walk out of here on its own and start attending college.”  She hooked her feet around the chair legs, pulling in closer, “Nevermind that. Look, I want to talk about us.”

“Shoot.”

Karen took a moment, licked her lips while she searched for the best words, “Look, I'm not the best at this so instead of beating around the bush I'll just come out and say it. Why haven’t we had sex yet?”

His hands paused opening a can of beer, the silence between them was like a wobbling pudding for some agonizing seconds. Metal clacked as the can got pried open, foam bellowed out in a small cloud, “Holy shit Karen. You really didn’t beat around the bush, you straight up killed it.”

The sound of Karen’s fingers drumming on the table filled the room. Her chin rested in her hand while she waited for an answer. He leaned back in his chair, “Is it really such a big deal?”

“Kind of. Look, I don’t see it as  _ the  _ factor in a relationship. But it’s a factor,” She folded her hands in her lap, “So... what’s the reason? I like what we have here Sly, I really do. Talk to me. Please.”

Sylvester cupped the beer can with both hands, his shoulders slumped. It was almost as if he imploded upon himself, “I’d rather not.”

“Try to see it my way, all I know is that you don’t make advances on your own and you’re rejecting mine. I don’t know why. If you’d- just trust me with the reason, we might be able to work something out.”

The can found his lips and Sylvester drank deeply from it. Nearly empty the can hit the table with a hollow clang, white knuckles wrapped around it. Metallic clacks popped through the air as one dent after the other carved their marks on the beer can. He drew a deep, trembling breath. Exhaling as if he was puffing out a long stream of cigarette smoke, Sylvester finally said, “Alright. Shit, this- this stupid. Should just have walked away or remained friends. But fuck it, right? You want to know why? I'll tell you why. Micropenis. There, I said it. Cue the laugh track.”

Karen said nothing, did nothing. She just sat there across the table almost statuesque with her back straight. She took in the sight of a grown man, emotionally naked that steeled himself for some sort of verbal flogging. She drew nearer and offered her hand, “I don’t know what you expected. Ridicule or mockery... You’re not going to get that from me, but I want to learn, to understand. Could you explain what it means to me?”

A heavy sigh of relief almost shot out of Sylvester; his warm breath washed over her face like an invisible wave. The smell of beer lingered between them as his hands inched forward, crossing the distance. His hand was cautious and hesitant as if the table was made of fragile ice that cracked and groaned under the slightest movement. Below was a bone-chilling dark abyss, known to the common man as abandonment. Finally, their fingers touched, Karen’s coiled around his and greeted them with an affirmative squeeze. Her warmth and soft caress gently fanned the embers of Sylvester’s courage, “I- my dick is- it's pathetically small. Tiny is a better word for it I guess.”

“Size matters not,” Karen said, distorting her voice to make her best Yoda impression. It made his face crack into a smile wide enough to press out the tears that rested on his eyes.

Scoffing a laugh, he said, “Funny, I always took you for a Trekkie.”

“C’mon Sly, look at me. Tall and hairy? I’m a Wookie baby.”

His smile remained, “Loyal as one too.”

“Look, we can make this work. Okay?”

“How? You're the one that’s starved for sex and I,” his hand started to slip out of hers, “can’t give it. Not much of a man, am I?”

“Sly, please don’t... don’t measure your entire self-worth by the size of your dick,” Karen’s second hand folded over his wrist. “You can- just think outside the box. You've got all ten fingers, don’t you? And a tongue to boot.”

He sniffed and blinked away a few more tears, “You’re not giving up on me, are you?” 

She patted his hand and smiled, “No. I love you just the way you are Sly. We'll figure something out. Together.”

* * *

Friday evening the following week. The smell of the ocean was so much more prominent onboard the dingy, especially as it bounced up and down the waves, kicking up splashes of seawater. Karen didn’t give it much of her attention beyond occasionally swiping stray threads of hair away from her face. Her mind was preoccupied with the upcoming testimony she’d have to give in the child  pornography case. Aside from the hearing after she’d revealed herself to the world and turned herself over to the authorities, Power Girl had never really been in such a prolific case. There was last year’s crimson drug case, but for whatever reason, she was never summoned by the court. 

It wasn’t fair to compare the two cases either. One was your run of the mill drug bust. The only thing that made it stand out from any other case was the new designer drug and the fact that Power Girl played an important role in the investigation and subsequent arrests. This child pornography case on the other hand was a whole different beast. It had kicked up a hornet's nest of the rich, famous, and powerful. Calling it a media frenzy was an understatement of biblical proportions. One of the worst crimes imaginable conducted in open secrecy by some of the most beloved people in the country. There was not a network on the globe that would pass on that kind of story.

Well onboard the yacht, Karen wobbled through her routine on a buggy autopilot. Sprinkling out halfhearted greetings while she made her way to her bedroom. To top it all off she only now noticed the small patch of red, irritated skin on the underside of her wrists. At first, it looked like an insect bite, but she found it odd that they were both symmetrically placed on both wrists. And Karen had never been bothered by insects before, even when she was drained of her powers.  So, what could it be? There hadn’t been any changes. Except she’d started to wear the perfume Sylvester had given to her, “Oh great. Don't tell me that-”

Karen stopped dead in her tracks. Just to her left, down on the floor sat Sylvester. That wasn’t really the worst part. Him holding up her Power Girl suit stole that price, “Hi... ‘sup Sly?”

“Not much. Just- making some space for some of my clothes. That, uh, Hi- Hitomi lady said it was cool.”

“Riiight... weekend plans. You. Me. Pineapple pizza,” she counted on her fingers as if taking inventory. 

“So, uh... what’s this?” he lifted the suit up even higher, hiding behind it.

“Co-cosplay?” she gave a soft laugh and tried to snatch it. Sylvester pulled back, “What? I can’t be a fan?”

He peeked out from behind the suit, “You’re her, aren’t you?”

“Oh you, flattery will get you anywhere. Come on, give it here.”

“Karen. Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not Power Girl.”

Her shoulders sagged as she hung her head, “You got me Sly.”

“Wait. What? For real?”

“Stars above, make up your mind Sly!” Karen lunged forward, snatched the suit, and remained hovering just above the bed.

Sylvester's eyes went wide, his feet kicked and scrambled over the carpet until he bumped his head against the wardrobe door, “Holy...! Shit! You  _ are  _ her!” he blurted out before firmly clapping both hands over his mouth. His wide eyes darted with an anxious glance between the bedroom door and Karen.

“Relax Sly,” she tossed the suit on the bed and closed the bedroom door, “everyone onboard knows. You didn’t commit some hideous crime or anything.”

“...so you’re not going to kill me...?”

“What? No. Does it look like I've killed people to you?”

He gave her a once over from head to toe, “Not even by snu-snu? I mean, you’re pretty strong and it can get... hectic.”

Karen sat down at the edge of the bed, pulling the suit into her lap as if a child sought comfort from its favorite blanket, “My strength doesn’t work like that. Looks like the tables have turned on us, huh? My turn to confess something I hid from you.”

“But you were going to tell me, right?” Sylvester remained seated on the floor, his back square against the wardrobe. 

She nodded and sniffed, “You’d be the first. None of my exes knew. Never got around to tell them.”

“Wow... you really do have it all,” he started counting on his fingers, “rich, successful business, smart, good looking, super strong, bulletproof, power of flight... How am I supposed to keep up with that?”

“Oh please,” Karen rose to her feet and headed for the bathroom to remove her contact lenses. “Things may look all good and dandy if you’re standing on the outside, looking in. But trust me, I’m not worthy of some sky-high golden pedestal. You can keep up with me just fine.”

“Says the woman that handled Footlong like he was a napkin.”

She leaned in the doorway drying her hands, her brows snapped together at his comment. After inhaling and exhaling deeply, she said, “Look Sly... this is a bombshell, I know. Just don’t- can we please not fight over this? I am me; you are you. And yes, I went a little mama bear on that sleazebag Freddy. It's not like I sliced his legs off with my heat vision.”

“Oh my god, you have heat vision too!” Sylvester threw his hands in the air. Seeing her stride towards him, he shrunk even closer towards the door and shielded himself as best he could as he said, “Please don’t hurt me...”

Karen caught him peeking through his fingers, no doubt taking in the sight of her towering over him. Perhaps it was a trick of the light or just her eyes adjusting to being freed from the lenses, but it looked like he was shivering ever so slightly. Rather than angry, her brilliantly and vibrant blue eyes softened to a hurt expression. Instead of a clenched fist, she offered him an open palm, “I’d never hurt you Sly. When you were honest with me, I didn’t see you as any less of a man. I still don’t. Think you can see me not as a monster?”

His feeble guard thawed  away; worry started to fade from his eyes. Hesitant at first his hand reached out to hers. Her fingers latched on and with an effortless yank, her strong arm pulled him back on his feet. Not skipping a beat, Karen embraced him and held him tight. Burying her face into his shoulder she said, “Thank you. I love you.”

* * *

The Davis Courts Building, located on Macdonald Street in Davis, had attracted a massive media crowd. Not only were some of the biggest names in Vinewood facing child pornography charges, but the one leading the investigation was none other than Power Girl. Everyone wanted a slice of this pie, from massive, serious news outlets who invited experts to interview to armchair experts giving their take via a second-rate webcam. Given the nature of the case, the judge had called for court  proceedings to be held in a closed court, so Power Girl had no reservations about testifying. She could avoid most of the press by landing on the roof and working her way down. Upon landing, she saw a man waiting for her, “Adrian?”

“Just wanted to thank you for what you’ve done and,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry about your files.”

“Look, let’s just take one thing after the other. When we can get these subhuman parasites locked up in prison, the loss of those files won’t be as bad.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, “You believe that? That we’ll get these people?”

“I don’t see why not. There’s, unfortunately, a metric ton of evidence and we’ve managed to get some of the victims to testify. They're going down Adrian, every last one of them. The law demands it.”

Adrian shook his head, “Laws are like spiderwebs: they catch the weak and poor, but the rich can rip right through them.”

“Have a little faith Adrian,” she patted him on the shoulder and smiled. “Look, I’ve got to go. Don't want to be late for the show. See you later.”

A few floors down Power Girl stopped as she got closer to the courtroom. The clicking of cameras and questions from reporters caught her ears. She examined her cape and even did a few tests to see if it could be used to hide her face, but there was no such luck. Not without looking beyond ridiculous anyway.  Instead, she opted to give Max a call from her bracer, “Max? Could you meet me by the fire exit next to... let’s see, ah here we go – courtroom 501?”

Just a few minutes later and Max arrived though he wasn’t in a very “I thought you were going to arrive by car. I was waiting for you at the service entrance.”

She waved her hand in front of her face and gave a slight cough, the smell of smoked cigars was particularly heavy today, “Stars and stone- do you think you could throw the press a bone or seven? I need to get to the courtroom.”

“You really don’t want to appear on national TV, do you?”

“If I could have arrived through the window, believe me I would.”

Max sighed and shook his head, “Okay... we- do you have something for me to say even? Or do I have to play it by ear?”

“Aside from the obvious stuff like I'm horrified over the nature of the crime? Incredible disappointed that people had let this go on for as long as it did? Knowingly?” she shrugged. “No, not really.”

“Okay. Good, good,” he jerked her head in the direction of the press. “I’ll stick to that and- uh, I think you can just circle around.”

“You let me worry about that. Just keep all eyes, cameras, and microphones pointed at you.”

While Max went to work and had the press hang on to every word he said, Power Girl floated up to the ceiling and rested her back against it. Sliding along the ceiling, she ended poking one of the court guards at the top of his head to get him to open the door for her. Thankfully he let it all slide without much fuzz, just a flabbergasted expression as if he wasn’t paid nearly enough to question or deal with that sort of thing.

* * *

The golden medallions on Karen’s cape clattered together as she pulled it up over her head. Rolling her shoulder, she heard her socket joint crack and pop. Soft groans and moans took each other for a small little dance. She made a pit stop by the bedroom only to find it empty. After she checked the bathroom, Karen left her cape on the bed and headed back outside. Meeting Hitomi in the hallway she asked, “Hey have you seen Sylvester? Or did he go home already?”

“He’s up by the bar. The two of us have been following the trial all day. Let me restock the ice and I'll join you. Oh, do you need help with the suit?”

Karen shook her head, “I’m good thanks. Catch you in a bit.”

Her heavy footsteps up the stairs and across the floor made Sylvester tense up. She could tell, her keen ears caught him inhaling sharply. Glass scraped against the bar counter like restless hands couldn’t stop fiddling with it. Faking ignorance, Karen greeted him with a tired smile and a light kiss on the cheek. His skin was warm and flushed to the touch while the smell of alcohol lingered on his breath. The two lovers said nothing, did nothing. They just sat next to each other in a bar on a multimillion-dollar yacht in perfect silence. 

After a minute or so, Karen turned her attention to the laptop that rested on the counter. Disabling the Matrix green rain screen saver showed a bunch of news sites already up. Each and every one of them covering the child pornography case and Power Girl’s testimony. Not a single picture of the lady of the hour, however. The world would have to settle for Max, for now at the very least. Karen skimmed through some pixelated video snippets that buffered more than they played and as far as she could tell, Max was holding his own. Their honest and consistent policy with regards to the press should pay off long term. Hopefully.

“Well then,” Hitomi’s voice smashed the silence, giving both Karen and Sylvester a jolt, “what can I get you?”

“Mm... A Mojito would look really, really good right about now.”

She nodded, “Of course ma’am.”

“How’s it going Sly? Good?”

He straightened on the barstool, a hand rubbing the back of his neck, “Just- I don’t know. Trying to wrap my head around it all. Come up with some new material.”

“Look, I guess it can be... overwhelming,” Hitomi put her drink in front of her, “Thanks Hitomi. But... just take it one step at the time and if you want to talk, I'm here.”

“Yeah...” Sylvester brought his drink to his lips, gazing into the depths. “The thing is-”

Karen waited. Nothing came. Cupping her own drink, she said, “Sly, what’s eating you?”

“I remember years ago that s omeone told me I should take caution when it comes to love,” he scoffed and shook his head before taking a sip. “Thought I did. But there you were; strong, rich, successful, capable, competent, and confident. And I was not.”

“Sly, you shouldn’t sell yourself so short. You’re a great guy.”

He chuckled into his glass. Perhaps it was because of the acoustics of the glass, but to Karen, his laugh sounded like it had a bitter edge to it. Although he smiled, he didn’t smile with his eyes, “Yeah... that too. You're tall, I'm short. My mistake. I was careless, I forgot.”

“We’re in a relationship Sly. Stop seeing it as a competition.”

His glass rattled the ice cubes inside with the rolling of his wrist. Hitomi cast a subtle glance at Karen, quietly asking for permission. She masked her approval together by closing the laptop. While Hitomi prepared another serving, Karen shifted her full attention to Sylvester. Their eyes met, hers although tired remained focused with their brilliant blue shade. His shifted around, avoiding direct eye contact behind a thin drunken haze, “I’m old school Karen. The breadwinner, provider, protector, the...” he gestured, “man. Of the house.”

“Oh Sly...”

“No, let me finish. There is nothing for you to say. You have- you've gone and so effortlessly... won,” Sylvester’s arms raised and flopped down on the bar defeated. Scoffing he added, “You have won. So, you can go ahead tell them.”

Karen almost rolled her eyes. Catching herself she asked, “Who? Who would I tell? What is there to tell anyway? I don’t see why we’d bring other people into our private business.”

“Tell them all I know now. Shout it from the rooftops, write it on the skyline. That all we had is gone now,” he melted into a drowsy sleep on top of the counter. Half asleep, half-awake he kept muttering to himself, “Tell them I was happy and my heart is broken... Tell them what I hoped for proved to be impossible.”

Minutes ticked by as Karen sat by the bar finishing her drink while she listened to Sylvester’s soft, steady breathing. It was a sight she’d seen a few times before, at Bailey’s where some troubled cop tried to water down some troubling memory with alcohol. Hitomi remained steadfast behind the bar, with all the presence of a ghost's shadow. Leaning over Karen brushed aside a few strands of hair from Sylvester’s face, “It’s not impossible. The word itself says  _ I'm possible _ . I wish you could see that.”

“Do you need any help ma’am?”

Karen lifted Sylvester into her arms, gentle as not to stir him from his sleep. Nestling his head against her chest, she cradled him like a precious treasure. She swallowed, eyes wet with tears and a pained, faint smile on her lips, “It’s okay. We're good, thanks.”


	25. Humane Labs Showdown

“Sylvester. Sylvester,” Karen gently rocked his shoulder, “Wake up Sly.”

He grumbled, groaned, and moaned something of a reply while he looked for refuge underneath his pillow. Somewhere in-between all the noises there were hints of words like the usual morning phrases; leave me alone, just five more minutes, and the new addition known as bugger off. She gave him a small break before shaking him again, firmer this time around. Finally, Sylvester yielded. His messy bed hair and bloodshot eyes peeked out from under the pillow with deadly scorn to them, “What?”

“Look, I've got to go. Morning shift and whatnot, but Sly... I'm worried. I talked to Hitomi last night after tucking you in-”

“Whu-? Christ, you even carried me to bed. Like a kid,” he twisted his head in disbelief. A stain of sweat left behind on the pillow.

Karen's fingers tensed into talons while h er mouth set in a hard line for a fleeting moment. Her expression softened and she said, “Forget about that will you? I'm worried about you. About your drinking.”

A wobbly, spaghetti-like hand shot up from behind the quilt, pointing at Sylvester, “I... am an adult. Okay?”

“Stars and stone... yes. Yes, you are an adult Sly. Whoop-di-fucking-do. Can you please, please take it easier on the drinking?”

His nostrils flared, “Why do you care?”

Karen swooped down, their faces a mere inch apart, “Because I love you! Okay? Would- would you rather that I didn’t? That I didn’t care about you. Just- drop you in the ditch because I don’t like the smell of your breath? It stinks by the way. Brush your teeth.”

“...yes mom.”

She got to her feet, adjusting her cape and smoothed down her suit, “Cut it out, okay? If you’re trying to be funny, I'm not laughing.”

Sylvester half raised himself in bed, flinching at some unseen pain in the back of his head. A feeble hand reached out and clasped around her wrist, “Karen, Karen... I'm sorry. My bad, okay? It's just- I'm a bit cranky in the morning, but-”

The sound of busy feet approaching caught Karen’s sensitive ears, prompting her to turn towards the bedroom door. Cliff came to a grinding halt in the doorway, his breathing heavy and leaning on the doorframe for support, “You better get going. It's bad.”

She cast a worried glance down at Sylvester. A corner of his mouth lifted, “Go get ‘em Karen. I'll be fine. Some heavy breakfast, a few glasses of water and I'm good. It's just to grease the funny gears in my head for the most part.”

The earpiece slipped into her ear as Karen gave him a short nod, “Dispatch. This is PG, I'm on my way. ETA one minute.”

* * *

“Get into Humane Labs, and get out with the equipment. After we breach the entrance, half of us go inside to secure the gear, the other half holds off reinforcement together with the ascended. Then we get out. Be sure to lose the law before going back to camp. Split up if you have to,” Lucy slapped the clip into her pistol.

Everyone else in the cramped van nodded. Some were deadly serious with a clean dedication on their faces. Others fidgeted around with their hands, legs bouncing and restless eyes searching. As an undercover agent, Lucy was not allowed to commit crimes so she’d hoped to give her contact a heads up. That way they’d be stopped before any crime could have been committed. Unfortunately, Dr. Kapur insisted that Lucy was the one leading the raid and planning it out. So, the chance to give a warning to law enforcement never came. Ideally, they should have been driving a Humane Labs and Research Boxville van, though they couldn’t secure one, let alone two in time. Instead, they went in a couple of taco vans that had been stripped for all interior to make room for everyone and the meta-humans.

“Say, Lucy, why’d you remove the license plates?”

She bobbed around in her seat as the van crossed over Calafia bridge, “Don’t want the police to track us down. Both these belonged to Mary’s cousin, right?”

“Ah… why didn’t I think of that?”

“It’s why I’m in charge of this raid and not you, Vandal,” she winked at him.

Their route would take them through Sandy Shores via Joshua Road. With a little luck, they’d run into the police. There was a police station not far from where there so Lucy figured their chances were good. Driving without a license plate was enough to get pulled over. There were some perks to keeping people cut off from modern life. Details like these tend to slip their minds. Sandy Shores came and went without incident. A heavy sigh escaped through Lucy’s nostrils as they came upon Chianski Passage. From here on out, it was just a lonesome road to Humane Labs. The chances of getting pulled over now were practically zero. Lucy massaged her face and shook her head. All she could do now was to pin her hope on that the meta-humans would fail spectacularly and thus cripple the gang’s morale. Everyone would get arrested and the camp gets stormed shortly thereafter. Not the greatest of plans, littered with unknowns and what-if’s, but it was the best she could do now that everything else had failed.

She banged the wall against the  driver's seat a few times, “Listen up! Floor it through the gate. Don’t stop until you’re on the far side of the parking lot. That’s our entrance.”

“You got it, leave it to me!”

The van’s engine roared to life, everyone jerked around in their makeshift seats as the van accelerated. Wood splintered and the van rocked violently from side to side, almost tipping over. Tires screeched through the window over a confused choir of curses. Gunfire erupted outside, bullets stabbing at the broad side of the van as it swung about. A loud bang punched through the back of the van before it sagged to one side, “The fuck was that?!”

“They shot out a tire! Stop the car! Stop the freakin’ car!” Lucy commanded before she got shoved into one wall as the van came to a screaming halt. The back doors kicked open and they poured out into the sunlight. 

A gunfight played out between the security guards and Lucy’s team. She crouched down and moved behind a parked car, its alarm blaring off on all cylinders. From the corner of her eye, she saw one of  the team members frantically trying to get his gun to work. Lucy had cashed in on her perk as weapon master and insisted that some of the guns were swapped with newer ones. Less wear and tear, less likely to cause a failure had been her argument back at the camp. Of course, the ones she’d given out were without firing pins. One of the car windows exploded into thousand white glass shards that rained down on Lucy, prompting her to lose her cult cover in favor of wrapping things up. Just as she had one of the armed and dangerous cultists in her sight, something massive moved in on her at neck-breaking speed. Huffing and puffing like a savage animal, one of the meta-humans snatched her up like an oversized doll before it stampeded off, “Candy!”

Lucy lost her bearings through the tumble. Glass shattered, metal clattered and fire alarms blared out. All while she tossed around like a lifeless rag until she finally managed to shout out, “STOP! Put me down!”

The hulking creature came to an abrupt halt, smashing into a file cabinet along the way before it put Lucy down. It patted her up and down as if to check that she was okay. She was all things considered, though several of her joints throbbed and ached and there were at least half a dozen cuts along her arms and legs. Holstering her gun, she said, “What’s wrong with you?!”

It flinched at her words, even backing up a few steps. Mustering some courage, it spoke with a crude set of simple words, “Candy. Friend find candy. Help.”

“There’s no-” she started when the sprinklers decided to kick in. “Oh great, just perfect.”

Carefully an oversized hand rested just over her head, shielding her from the water. Lucy looked at her unlikely protector, battered and bruised. Clothes torn and cut, shards of glass poking out of its skin. A crooked, shy smile across a deformed face. There was a kindness in its eyes, a gentle giant that, despite it all, was willing to serve and protect its one and only friend as best it could. Their quiet moment shattered as someone rounded the corner down the hall, “Over here! There’s a freak here!”

“No, don’t-” Lucy’s words drowned over a colossal roar as the police officer unloaded his firearm.

An avalanche of destruction and rage ravaged down the hall, unleashing its raw untamed power upon the poor unfortunate soul. The floor shook, pictures rattled off the walls, and a sudden, explosive wave of red bloodshot up against the wall. Lucy, gun in hand and water raining down on her, stood there frozen. Knuckles white and tense, eyes wide, too terrified to even dare to blink. In the flashing emergency lights, the giant held something in its massive hand, limp and lifeless. Too small to be a man, yet there was something eerily familiar with how it moved when it got shaken around. With a wet slosh, Lucy’s companion discarded it before it returned to her side. It let out a forlorn moan, lower lip jutting out, “Protect friend.”

She lowered her gun and swallowed, “Okay… okay, let’s just-” a shivering breath ran through her body, “let’s find that freakin’ candy and get out of here.”

The unlikely duo moved through the office until they found the lab number that Dr. Kapur had given them. Checking her written notes, Lucy found the equipment and handed it over to her partner once it was unplugged. In the distance, there was the sound of battle, a fierce one at that. She looked up at her massive friend, clutching the equipment in its arm like a priced treasure. Maybe, just maybe they’d be able to put it out of its misery quickly.  A howl, animalistic and primal, yet with a human undertone ran through the air, tickling shivers down Lucy’s spine. Someone somewhere in the building was duking it out with one of the meta-humans. No sound of gunfire, just two massive forces trashing around, “Power Girl?”

“Hold candy,” it said with a firm tone.

“Huh?” Lucy was so taken off guard by the prompt that she took hold of the equipment by reflex. The very next second her feet left the floor and she tumbled through the corridors as her companion stampeded towards the exit. Just as the sprinklers stopped crying and the sun greeted them, Lucy found herself floating on a weightless second. Then they crashed down on the pavement, snarls, and rage-filled her ears over wailing sirens and men barking commands. She only caught blurry fragments of what was happening, battered patrol cars, blood on the pavement, and empty bullet cartridges. Enough to fill a river. Then she jerked one way, and without warning drifted through the sky with the wind rustling in her ear. Branches snapped and cracked; leaves rained down all around her as their sharp descent was broken off by a tree. Bullets whizzed by, colliding with rocks and kicking up dirt. Before she could get out another word, the stampede continued until the sounds of combat could no longer be heard.

* * *

“Dispatch, this is PG. I'm ten-twenty-five,” Power Girl reported in as she made a steady climb towards the skies.

“Copy that PG,” dispatch voice had the same flat, professional tone as always.

She left North Sheldon Ave. behind and flew low between the buildings of Rockford Hills. There was a fine balance between speed and control of her flight ability that Power Girl needed to practice. Sure, she could just float high above the city and wait for dispatch to send her off to a scene here or an incident there. And as fun, as it was to just flat outgun it as fast as she could from one side of the state to the next, Power Girl wanted to get more precise control of her abilities. Plus, it helped keep her in the minds of the public if they could actually see her zip some twenty feet over their heads. Just then, dispatch cracked to life in her earpiece, “Any available units in Sandy Shores, please respond to a ten-thirty-one at Humane Labs Research.”

Power Girl carried on with her rounds, heading south towards Little Seoul and then zig-zagging through streets and side alleys down towards South Los Santos all while half-listening to the radio chatter. The Humane Labs call got updates as officers arrived on the scene. It was a ten-forty-three, a robbery of sorts. Why would anyone even bother with robbing a research lab out in the middle of nowhere? Power Girl rounded a street corner and slowed down to an almost full stop, “There was that robbery at new year. Same gang? Maybe I should-”

“Dispatch, we’ve got ourselves a ten-thirty-seven here! Multiple, I repeat multiple, ten-thirty-seven!”

Subject with a deadly weapon. There was something in the officer’s voice that made the hair on Power Girl’s neck stand up to attention. She listened in intently, a finger found the palm of her hand, stroking where she’d been stabbed before. The claw marks on the concrete wall, the sunken boat, “Alex! That son of a bitch!”

Reeling around, Power Girl shot upwards, punching through the sound barrier just as she pivoted towards the research lab. A ten-thirty-eight came in over the radio, then a ten-thirty-nine. Each update more desperate than the previous. Officers on the ground were losing their cool and it started to bleed into dispatch who scrambled to organize back-up. All hands were called on deck when the dreadful ten-ninety-five got called in. In less than half a minute a run of the mill call had mutated to a twisted beast, “Dispatch, this is PG, responding to that ten-ninety-five. ETA, ten seconds.”

“Appreciate it PG, get our boys back.”

Power Girl spotted several police cars already on the scene and landed by one of them. An officer leaned against it, clutching his ribs. He was drenched in sweat and by the looks of it, even breathing hurt like hell. His teeth clattered, but he put on a brave thin smile at the sight of her, “They got me- argh, right in the side. Sent me flying- had to crawl back here.”

“Who?”

As if answering the question, a massive figure grabbed the police cruiser and shoved it out of the way. The fact that the handbrake was on didn’t seem to bother the assailant much. It was massive, with distortional muscles like a grotesque bodybuilder. Power Girl was no push-over with her six feet something height, but this thing still stood a full head taller than her. She stood there in stunned disbelief for a brief second before a series of gunshots brought her and the colossal back to reality. A couple of officers opened fire on the humanoid creature. Initially, it hardly registered, but without warning, it howled a mad cry and stampeded towards the officers. 

Power Girl responded by locking her arm around its neck and using her flight ability, yanked it down flat on its back. Its hands lashed out, legs kicked and it gurgled something in an incomprehensible rage. When its hand found one of her arms, it latched on like a vice. The pain was bad enough to go all the way to Power Girl’s bone and she lost her grip. Without missing a beat, the creature sucked in a fresh batch of air and tossed her aside. 

A group of officers circled and emptied their service weapons into the downed giant. After the first volley they promptly reloaded their weapons and put in a second volley as, to their horror, the creature tried to get back on its feet. The stench of blood and gunpowder filled the air as it sunk lifeless down to the ground. Guns got reloaded and a few shotguns were brought in for good measure. Power Girl got back on her feet, massaging her arm, “What in the world is that thing?”

“I don’t know,” the injured officer said as he limped over to her. “They were used to get inside, smash through the front doors.”

“They? There are more of these things in there?!”

Another officer checked his radio, “SWAT is on their way, as is everyone else, I guess. We should just secure-”

From a second-floor window, another deformed giant came crashing outside. This one was vivid and wasted no time assaulting the officers. It had a speed and strength to it that tore through several surprised officers before they had a chance to bring their weapons around. The punches and kicks in dished out reminded more of trucks barely avoiding running someone over than anything else. Grown men were sent tumbling over, scraping against the ground for a few feet before coming to a stop. Power Girl caught the distinct sound of bones breaking, it happened so fast it almost sounded like popcorn popping. 

“No!” She flew into the giant, tackling him by the waist. 

The two of them tumbled around, wrestling for a grip. Wherever she could, Power Girl kept his greedy hands off her by shooting short, controlled bursts of heat vision at his palms. The giant shrieked in pain, though its retreat was only momentarily and its retaliation was fueled by a strengthened outrage. One of its kicks connected and pushed Power Girl back. This gave the surrounding officers a small window to unload their firearms at the creature. Cries of pain intertwined with a berserk rage that figured a full-frontal assault was the best defense. Its violent  stampede brought it to a police car and yanking doors off their hinges, the giant threw them at the officers.

Coughing to catch her breath, Power Girl could see through her tears that some large shadowy objects hurled through the air at lethal speeds. She sprung to action, latching on to something metallic hard enough to make it bend underneath her grasp. It stopped on a dime; the effort made pain flash through the joints of her arm. Tears clear of her eyes; Power Girl saw the hulking monstrosity tearing out the interior of a car and using whatever it could get its strong hands-on as crude projectiles. Using the battered car door in her hand as a make-shift weapon, she raised it high over her head and bashed down on the giant over and over again.

With the creature distracted, a police officer managed to circle and shoot it in the face at point-blank range with her shotgun. Bone, brains, and blood exploded in a dark red torrent. Power Girl gulped down a mouthful of air, her lunch eager to leave the confines of her stomach. Looking around, it became clear to her that this was nothing short of a small combat zone. The worst part was that it was nothing like in the movies. It was so much worse. The sights and sounds alone were one thing, but the smell, taste, and fatigue that hung over the place like a soaked blanket added a whole different level of unromantic nasty to experience. Even so, she had to keep going, keep moving. If she stopped now, she’d never been able to get back on her feet in time. She’d never be able to stop shaking. All eyes were on her, she was their ace in the hole. 

The twisted and bloodied remains of the car door dropped from her hand. A hand trembling with adrenaline wiped away some of the blood splatters on her face. Somehow her feet started to stumble into a walk, then into a jog. Between the wailing sirens, she heard cheers, short flashes of smiles caught the corner of her eyes. The steady rhythmic cries of the fire alarm drew her inside. Broken glass shards cracked underneath her boots, punctured holes dotted the walls and several tiles from the ceiling had dropped down. Probably because of the creature’s height as they bumbled through the building. Power Girl ventured deeper inside, out of the sunlight, and into the shadows.

An office landscape where the sprinklers cried quiet tears stood barren. It wore the scars of a hasty retreat, papers scattered all over the floor, chairs turned over, and a few smashed flower pots. Power Girl cupped some water in her hands, washed her face clean. It was just five seconds. That was all it needed. Without warning one of the walls exploded and a third behemoth caught Power Girl in its deadly embrace. She couldn’t wrestle free due to how her arms got caught, but using her flight she managed to throw it off balance. Both tumbled and crashed through a lake of soaked cubicle walls, computer screens, and office chairs. 

Pinned down against the floor. Or at least that’s what Power Girl thought she was. In the chaotic and frantic seconds, it was hard to get her bearings. A great weight pushed down against her, square on her shoulders. The sprinklers continued to cry; water got squeezed out of the drenched carpet. Her short, desperate pants snorted up the water. Every time she exhaled; her chest inched itself closer to the floor. Lunges burned, silvery dots sparkled and danced over her vision. Where her arms and legs where  were anyone’s guess. They were nowhere near where they needed to be, somewhere where they could get a grip or some sort of leverage. 

“Stop!” her cry was feeble, shoved down into the carpet along with the rest of her face.

Something slipped and she found her arm free. How or why was unimportant. Every second counted. Raw survival instinct kicked in and she lashed out as if her life depended on it. Her elbow connected; the weight eased off. Power Girl wiggled her face free and heaved in the first lung-full breath in a lifetime. Heavenly, life-giving air gave her whole system a small jolt. It was the spark  needed to start the flame. And what a big, roaring inferno Power Girl had to share. She put everything into her flight, short and intense. They smashed up against the ceiling, her fingers found flesh, and dug into it with relentless greed.

A howl, animalistic and primal, yet with a human undertone  shattered the room. Power Girl’s fingers kept tearing; the tip of her finger scraped against something sturdier. A bone? Her grip slipped, blood and water made it hard to latch on. Something big and heavy landed on the floor with a resounding crash. The shadowy figure whimpered, clutching its wound it scrambled back on its feet and limped away. Power Girl swiped the room, tracing after the sound with a lethal blast of her heat vision. It hissed against the water, steam obscuring her view. Wild and unhinged, the beams sliced through furniture and walls. Sporadic small flames spluttered to life along the path only to drown a fraction of a second later. With her assailant gone, Power Girl’s deadly onslaught died down and she slumped down on the floor. Knees rattled under the burden; her legs unable to hold her own weight. Alone in the cold, wet darkness she trembled, laughed, and cried. She cried until her voice gave out and she had no more tears left to shed.

* * *

“Prophet! Prophet, come- where are you?!” the question struggled to stay afloat over the sound of stomping boots and a door slammed open against the wall.

“Mistress might! What's wrong with you? I'm not deaf. Honestly...”

The guardsman’s eyes were wide, his skin ghostly pale while the words swelled into an incoherent bloated mess on the top of his tongue. Either that or whatever synapses that were still lit in his feeble mind were popping like overcharged lightbulbs in rapid succession. Whatever had shaken his core to such an extent made him forget his place when his hand latched on to her arm. Hell-bent on a single idea; the guardsman pulled Kala out of her seat and dragged her outside despite her loud protests. Just as words proved useless and her strength proved insufficient, she reached for her faithful crutch, but by then it was just beyond her reach.

Outside in the glaring sun, its rays pierced and stabbed at Kala’s eyes. Just over the mutterings of a crowd birds sang their merry little tunes, ignorant of the drama that unfolded in the human camp. The crowd parted ways, making a horseshoe formation out of the original donut and revealed Lucy and only one of the awoken battered and out of breath. A gasp escaped Kala and she stepped forward, finally pulling free from the guardsman. Less than half a step forward on her own locomotive and she collapsed down in the dirt. Half a dozen flustered hands reached out and offered their strength, though Kala swatted them away with a flick of her wrist. She remained transfixed on Lucy who was struggling to catch her breath enough to speak, “Listen... we-”

“The equipment!” Kala crawled closer and clasped onto Lucy’s shoulders. “Tell me you secured the equipment!”

For a brief moment, there was this baffled, almost disappointed look on Lucy’s face. She let out an exasperated sigh and turned towards the hulking awoken, “Goliat... show the doctor what you found.”

The awoken was bundled up into a ball of disproportional muscles trembling with tension. Its eyes had the embers of a powerful rage glowing while its snarling lips revealed bloodied teeth. Lucy continued to coax it into relaxing and after a long minute, it started to thaw. Opening like a blooming flower, a piece of equipment dropped from its oversized arms. It looked so small and insignificant, like a cheap metal toy in comparison to the giant man-beast that was the awoken. Kala snatched it  up and examined it as fast and thorough as she could considering the circumstances. A bit battered, some scratches and dents here and there but as far as she could tell it was just surface level damages. A concern was the power cord, which appeared to have been cut clean off rather than unplugged. It was left with only a handful of inches for a tail. Kala shot Lucy a glare that could boil oceans away to deserts.

“We had to move fast. There was-” Lucy swallowed and tried her best to suppress a shudder.

“What in God’s name happened out there?” one from the surrounding crowd muttered.

Lucy hung her head, “Power Girl...”

Uneasy muttering rustled through the crowd. Even the awoken seemed to shrink away at the words. Kala hugged the equipment close and just stared at Lucy with blank, disbelieving eyes. Her lip quivered. The way her throat contracted and shriveled away had reduced her confident voice and silver tongue to a pathetic rusted whimper. She heard Lucy’s retelling of the raid without really listening. Something about how the awoken challenged the guards and then the police with such vigor and strength were nothing short of miracles. Then the Mistress of Might came and her power would not be denied. A battle between Nephilim and awoken ensued. One which, according to Lucy left a bitter truth open and bare. This was a fight no mere mortal could hope to survive. Though a volley of protests washed through the crowd, through it all Kala heard fragments of Lucy’s voice. Her words a flickering lighthouse that stood firm in its truth and would not bow no matter how much the storm and sea howled and trashed around her.

We've built walls they pointed out, words riding on drops and threads of saliva. Wooden walls and rickety guard towers were barely a thing against the Mistress’ undeniable might. She'd bent metal with her fingers and punched through concrete with her fists. We've collected weapons, great weapons that Lucy herself vouched for. And they’d trained in using them. Lucy scoffed with a halfhearted smile and nodded towards Goliat. The giant seemed to shrink under the scrutiny and bundled itself together once more. Though this time it was not wrapped in impenetrable divine wrath. Even a one-eyed fool could see it was quivering with fear and though it was bloodied from the battle and its wounds healed, Lucy said something about bullets trapped in flesh and how they still caused Goliat agony. We were chosen they practically shrieked over the crying children. We're the First Sons of the New Age, vanguards in God’s divine army, the Mistress of Might our Valkyrie, our general who will lead us through the final battle and onwards to eternal salvation! Lucy slumped back for the first time against this volley and looked towards Kala for support as she said, “Listen, I do not profess to know God’s intent. His ways are far too mysterious for someone like me to comprehend.”

“Impure and unworthy!” Kala staggered to her feet; eyes ablaze while she hugged her precious equipment close to her chest. “You honestly think this is a game?! Anyone?! Deviate from the plan, falter in your faith and of course, the Mistress of Might will strike you down with divine wrath. Our Mistress is strict and swift with her judgment. She saw into their souls and saw filth. And when Her gaze is upon you, what will She see...?”

The crowd fell silent, heads hung in shame while grown men bottled down their emotions. Doubt lingered, though it was but a whisper on their minds. Though this doubt paled compared to the twinging fear for their immortal souls. Kala motioned someone over to her side and leaned on his arm for support. The two almost fell over as her sudden weight on his arm caught him by surprise. Straightening herself as best she could, chin raised with reclaimed dignity Kala said, “Pray and repent. The apocalypse is upon us. Ready or not, your lives will come to an end. Lest you are pure  and worthy of the Mistress’ command, you will suffer eternally. Goliat! Come, let’s see to those wounds.”


	26. Numb

Cold water ran out over Karen’s hands washing away dried up blood. A sharp breath pulled in through clenched teeth the second the water found its way into the many small cuts that dotted her sore knuckles. In the mirror stood a battered image of herself, bruised and bloodied. For the first time ever, she wore a black eye, one that throbbed and stung at the lightest touch. The taste of blood had left her mouth, leaving behind a mush of something. It was definitely a taste of something, but not one that Karen could place. Whatever it was, it lingered on her tongue like a wet carpet. A light tremble coated her hands when she reached for a towel. No doubt the work of left-over scraps of the adrenaline that had surged through her system a few hours back. Muscles were sore to the point where any sudden or large movement made them shriek in protest while her joints groaned and pleaded for rest. 

Sunrise was still hours away, so all she could do was hit the shower and crawl to bed. Scrubbing of dirt, sweat and some more bloodstains did wonders to revitalize Karen. The warm water seeped into her very bones, gnawing at her fatigue with vigorous resolve. It was tempting to rub off the last traces of filth with a healthy dosage of soap, but the many cuts on her arms, chest, and hands suggested that would be a painful experience. She’d save that for tomorrow, when they’ve closed up, “Tomorrow I’m so going to soak in a bath. Loooooong hours. Oh, stars and stone that’s going to be great. Some bath salts and… a date? Yeah, just cuddle with Sly. Some scented candles maybe. Definitely a bottle of wine.”

Wrapped in a soft bathrobe, Karen looked at the open invitation her bed offered while drying off her hair. She sniffed the air and strained her ears for a moment. Soft mutterings from the bridge, Karen could barely identify the voices but not make out the words. There was the humming of the engine and something slushing around. A dishwasher perhaps? One thing she didn’t hear was the sound of laughter, which could suggest that Sly was not onboard. Alternatively, he’d fallen asleep on the sofa somewhere. Probably in front of the TV while watching an anime. As tempting as the bed with its soft blankets and fluffy pillows were, Karen took to the hallway just to make sure that Sly had gone home.

This late at night most of the crew had gone to bed. Even the bridge crew would most likely just some minor formalities away from going to bed themselves. As Karen made the rounds through the yacht, a deafening silence had settled over the place. Even the soft rustling of her bathrobe and her naked feet brushing against the carpet came off as an offense. Midway up the stairs, something caught her ear; glass on glass. She tensed up and consequently drew in a breath. Recognition dawned on her face as there was no mistaking it. The air smelled of alcohol and it grew more prominent as she continued to climb the stairs.

With the bar coming into view Karen saw Sylvester sitting there by his lonesome. His back faced her, hunched over as if some great burden was strapped to it. A bottle of Jack’s was in his hand as he tried to pour himself another one. Off to his side was a large bottle of coca-cola, almost empty. She approached him with soft steps, her hand ran over his shoulders in silent greeting. His turning was met with a kiss on the cheek, “Hey Sly…”

He mumbled something that resembled a greeting, up this close his breath was essentially a smog of whiskey. Hands swayed with little goal or meaning in mind before landing flat on the counter with a dead splat. With the bar counter as stable support, Sylvester slid his arm until his hand got close enough to grab his glass. Even with the extra aid, his eye to hand coordination left something to be  desired. A blank stare landed on the cola bottle. He rubbed some of the sleep out of his face, “How- how was your day?”

“Hectic. Look, Sly-” Karen circled around the bar.

“No, don’t!”

A crunching sound slipped out from underneath her foot. Looking down she saw the shattered remains of a Jack Daniels bottle spread out over the floor. No whiskey spilled, just glass. She just heaved a disappointed sigh and brushed the crushed glass shard off the sole of her foot, “Sylvester…”

“I- I’m sorry, aw-ight? My hand… it -lipped and-” His eyes narrowed for a moment, examining Karen’s face under the dim bar light. “Jesus! Oh Jesus- you- your face… wha happened?”

“A hectic day at work,” she shrugged and smiled. Licking her lips, she tasted that warm iron taste again. 

“Hectic? Da fuuuu- you went against Goku or someth-” Sylvester held back a burp, “or something? You- you can hurt? Karen! You’re- ou’re bee- bleedin’,” a pair of anxious fingers tapped his own lower lip to show her where she was hurt.

She cupped his hand in hers, “Look, Sylvester… I’m fine. Took a beating, yes. But nothing some rest will fix. A day or two in the sun is all I need.”

“Really?” he avoided her eyes, instead of focusing on his drink. “Y’know, I could… nurse you -ack to health if…” the rest of his words drowned in a pool of mumbling.

“That’s very sweet and kind of you Sly. It really is,” Karen took a deep breath. “But I have to go out there again as soon as possible.”

“Huh? Why? -uo’re hurt.”

“I’ve looked worse than this,” she cracked her neck and rolled her shoulders. It was like fighting against tight barbwire constraints. “Plus, the bad guys are still out there and somebody’s got to stop them.”

“Leave it to the, the uh, cops,” Sylvester half rose from his seat, leaned over the bar counter, and held on to her bathrobe for balance. “Let ‘em sort it out. Why- why you gotta go?”

“Sly… look at me,” their eyes met. His bloodshot, worn and pleading. Hers tired yet vibrant in their determination and as best she could, assuring. “These are really bad people. Inhumanly strong. Never seen anything like them before. I’m the best shot we have to keep people from getting hurt. I have to go.”

Sylvester mulled it over before sinking back on the barstool. Cupping his drink with both hands he drank with a sloppy disgrace, whiskey spilling out the sides of his lips. A gasp ejected from deep in his chest before he wiped his mouth clean with a crude backhand motion. The now-empty glass hit the counter with a slam, “You scared? If- if you’re scared… y-you should just- stay. Right?”

“Here, come here,” Karen took one of his hands and slipped it underneath her robe, just over one of her hearts. “Feel that? That’s scared. That’s worrying. I don’t like getting hurt Sly. It sucks. So of course, I’m scared. Especially now that I know what’s waiting for me.”

His face contorted to a drunken pained look, tears welling up in the corner of his eyes that just waited for a single blink to spill over, “Then why…?”

“You see Sly… I’ve come to realize that courage is not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it,” she rested her forehead on his. Together they shared silent tears. A sniffle and deep breath paved the way for a voice that quivered with unyielding conviction, “And… without courage, we can’t practice any other virtue with consistency. We can't be kind, true, merciful, generous, or honest.”

The dam burst and Sylvester cried in ugly silence. A hand landed a weak punch on her shoulder, again and again, each weaker than the last. His question although answered remained a repeated whisper on his lips, muffled by Karen’s tender embrace. Her strong arms folded over him like protective wings, rocking him gently. Shushed assurances that she’d be alright got interrupted by soft kisses and fingers which caressed his hair. Minutes dragged on, each a longer eternity than the last until finally, Sylvester calmed down. He slumped down in a defeated heap on the stool, threads of snot dangling from his chin, “I’m- I’m no good. Compared to you, I’m just… no good.”

Karen bent down and started picking up glass shards, “Look Sly, I’ve made a wrong turn once or twice. But I’ve also dug my way out, through blood and fire. So bad decisions? That's alright. We all do them. The trick is to learn and come out better at the end of the tunnel.”

He looked at her still unconvinced. A protest was about to leave, but Karen put a finger on his lips, “I’ve felt misplaced in this world and misunderstood by a lot of people. It didn't slow me down, despite a lot of second-guessing, both by myself and others. I’ve been underestimated, but look; I'm still around.”

A handful of glass shards dropped into the trash can. Dusting off her hands, she looked at Sylvester and smiled, “If you ever, ever feel like you're nothing. Know that you're fucking perfect to me. Screw what the world thinks and expects of you. What truly matters are what the people you love and know think and expect of you.”

“And what’s that…?”

She picked up the bottle of Jack’s and put it underneath the bar, “I love you. And… I think that… You're so mean, so mean when you talk about yourself. The way I see it, you’re wrong. Change the voices in your head. Make them like you instead.”

“How? How am I wrong?” he gestured towards her. “You’re- you’re Power Girl for Christ’s sake. Even top alpha dogs are sent packing.”

“Look, Sly you shouldn’t get too caught up in this whole alpha, beta male stuff. I don’t care for it, if anything, I laugh about it. You know why?”

He shook his head.

“Because in the world of computing alpha is a buggy mess that barely has its shit together. So, stop trying to be something you’re not. Be you. You make me laugh, you make me feel at ease, feel loved. That’s the man I fell in love with. Not the one that dives deep in whiskey bottles.”

Sylvester withdrew inwards, lost in thought. After a moment or so he nodded, “Al- a-ight, I’ll do it. ‘cause I don’t want to lose you, Karen.”

* * *

Kala's crutch clacked and scraped against the crude wooden floor of her lab with a rapid and impatient rhythm. Pieces of paper got snatched by fingers acting like viper fangs, only to get discarded in favor of going through a book by slapping through the pages. A finger traced down the written words on the crumbled pages. It joined up with its peers as they balled together into a fist, “Close... Cain, how do you feel? Be honest.”

He shifted weight from one foot to another, the seams of his clothes failed to contain his swollen frame, “Feverish. And... hungry, without much of an appetite.”

“It’s quite to be expected by this stage. It'll pass,” Kala snatched a small flashlight and shined it into his eyes. “Promising... what’s three times four Cain?”

He blinked, whether this was due to adjusting his sight from the flashlight or because he genuinely struggled with the question was hard to tell, but he answered nonetheless, “Twelve?”

She nodded and pocketed the flashlight, “Good, good. Now I'd like to try- where did I put it? Honestly...”

Just then the door to the lab swung open and Lucy arrived with a few other men in tow, “Doctor.”

“One moment. I thought- where is that Rubik's Cube?” Kala glanced around, taking restless steps here and there yet never really leaving the spot in which she stood. “Ah, there it is. Cain, see if you can solve this one for me please.”

“Yes, prophet.”

The look of awe and hint of fear on Lucy’s face as she took in the impressive sight of Cain’s tall, imposing frame invited a smug smile on Kala’s lips. She'd have the last laugh after all and the best part was that by the rate things were going, it wouldn’t be far off. Just a few more test trials to build a decent data pool and then shift over to the women for the final stretch. While her experiments with men had proved promising, minus a few acceptable setbacks, the biological differences between men and women could not and should not be ignored. On that note, as far as early compatibility tests showed, Lucy were her most promising test subject. As tempting as it was to just go through the steps so Kala could rid herself of her cursed body and reach her full potential as the Mistress’ prophet, she resisted the temptation. Haste made waste and at this crucial hour, she had to be more vigilant than ever against Satan’s schemes.

“Did I hear that right? Cain can talk, even this late into his awakening? I’m... at a loss for words doctor.”

Kala chuckled to herself and allowed herself a little victory parade in her humble lab, “Did you honestly believe I would fail, Lucy? I am an instrument of God’s will, a key component to giving the Mistress’ the vanguards She requires for the final judgment. The blind will see, the lame will walk, the tainted made pure. Sentience assured! Higher reasoning, problem-solving skills, a calm rational mind, and hardly any loss of memory.”

The men crossed themselves and muttered prayers underneath their breaths. While they remained in awe and perhaps a slight state of shock, Lucy was a different matter. True, she’d been taken aback by the sight of Cain and his speech, but now that the initial surprise had lost its effect. Kala eyed her with a careful gaze, making note of how she remained cool and collected, calculating even despite being in the presence of a miracle. Clearing her throat, Kala said, “You have something to say?”

“Hm? Oh no, I wouldn’t- I'm just at a loss for words,” Lucy half raised her hands in an effort to defuse the situation. “Listen, I’ve got to go. Weapons need to be inspected and the guards need to practice their aim.”

“Yes, yes,” Kala gave a dismissive wave of her hand as she turned her attention elsewhere, “to be honest, I'm quite busy myself. The sands of time slow down for no one.”

Silence followed Lucy’s departure and Kala set the two men that followed her to some minor tasks. By the time Cain had solved the puzzle, the sound of gunfire penetrated the silence. Between the second and third volley of gunfire, Kala said, “Cain. Duct tape.”

The massive man moved with a speed and precision that shouldn’t be possible for something that large. Kala remained seated, calm and collected she took notes and checked her watch as Cain overpowered and subdued the two other men. Whatever protests they shouted got cut off by the tape with swift and precise efficiency. True there was some tumbling about, but just as Kala had suspected, little of that bled out to the outside world thanks to the gun practice. Over the span of a small minute Cain had captured two grown men on his own, neither was in particularly bad shape. Gagged and bound they squirmed and twisted on the floor in muffled protest. Like caterpillars, ripe to bloom into a butterfly of raw divine beauty and might. It was unfortunate that they couldn’t do it on their own, but thankfully the merciful Lord had put Kala on this Earth for just such a purpose. The awakening procedure was nearly perfected and although combining multiple steps would accelerate the process, it would hurt. Though a pure soul ought to be able to withstand the searing fires and come out worthy. Kala smiled and as she put the syringe to their skin, she said, “Parise to the divine Mistress.”

* * *

Lucy’s fingers wrapped around the rickety wooden ladder. It creaked and wobbled as she climbed its steps, the rifle that hung over her back swung around as if looking for a way to escape. At the top of the guard, tower sat Vandal, his head nodding and a soft snore lingered near him. He woke with a startled snort as soon as Lucy touched his shoulder, hands snapping around his rifle, eyes dazed yet alert, “Wha-?! Oh, Jesus, you scared me, Lucy.”

She scoffed with a faint smile, “Sorry, didn’t mean to. Listen, c’mon. I’ll take the next shift.”

“You sure?” he rubbed sleep from his eyes and squinted in the pale moonlight. “No one would blame you if you get your rest. Mistress knows you’ve done your part. Above and beyond I’d say.”

“I’m fi-” she sighed and slumped down by his side. “Who am I kidding? I’m not fine, but I can’t sleep either.”

The two sat in a quiet moment. High above them, the stars twinkled against the deep dark blue of the night sky. A wind slipped by, causing a rustle in some nearby trees. Vandal helped himself with a cup, only to make a disgusted face. He’d never been a fan of cold coffee. Putting the cup away, his face grew serious and he said, “It’s not your fault you know.”

“Of course it is!” her words sliced through the air, their edge glowing still red hot from the furnace. It took by a second before regret clouded her face, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“Tell you what… you’re a good woman Lucy. You work hard, get results, and take ownership,” he stood up and stretched. “But this thing that happened? It ain’t some unfortunate thing.”

“Excuse me? Ascended died, our brothers arrested or killed, even the Mistress herself went against us!”

Vandal shook his head, “You’re missing my point. Maybe ‘cuz I’m no wordsmith like Joseph, but… all I’m trying to say is- the truly unfortunate are the ones that never live through misfortune. They pass through life without an opponent or any opposition. No one can ever know what these folks are truly capable of. Not even themselves.”

“That’s a backward way of saying what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger.”

He chuckled and shrugged, “Yeah maybe. I ain’t much of a talker, am I Lucy? Not even on my best days. And hell, here we are at the beginning of the goddamn graveyard shift.”

A chuckle bubbled through Lucy, growing and swelling until it became a full laugh. Her eyes started to swim with tears, sobs slipped through her laugh, and for a while, she simply could not stop. Several minutes later, she was spent. Vandal smiled at her, “We good?”

“As good as it gets, all things considered. Nice talk Vandal, now get your ass to bed.”

“Aye, aye cap’n.”

Lucy waited until Vandal had left, waited as the stillness of the night settled over the camp. Only when it was quiet as a grave did she start peering down on the other side of the gate. The gate itself was too big and heavy for her to move on her own, especially after she got banged up from her less than graceful escape from Humane Labs. Down below there were no bushes or trees that could break her fall. And it was quite a fall. Even if she did the whole tumble and roll, she did not like her odds. A twisted ankle or broken leg would be a real pain to deal with. It was quite the walk, through the pitch-dark woods in the dead of night down to the main road. Maybe, just maybe she got lucky and found a car by the lumbermill that she could hijack. That was assuming that she was in any condition to drive it. Beyond that, the sheriff’s office in Paleto Bay would be her best bet. Lucy pulled out a pencil from her pocket and stuffed it between her teeth. Biting down on it should keep her from screaming out in pain should she butcher her landing. Hands found the railing, deep and anxious breaths seethed through her teeth. Steeling herself, one foot stood on the rail and just then she backed off, “Shit!”

Hands-on her hips, Lucy paced around in the small guard tower, cursing under her breath. Threads of saliva hung around her chin as she approached the rail once more, only to back off. Finally, she inhaled sharply and moved to the opposite side of the rail. Just run, jump, and roll. Don’t think, don’t look, just… do it. She tried to calm herself, though her heart was already racing in her chest. Eyes closed slow and deep breaths. Lucy allowed herself one last look at the night sky before she kicked off. At the last possible moment, she slammed against the rails, pencil flew from her mouth along with the air in her chest. Chocking on saliva that went down the wrong hole, Lucy blinked through her tears and searched the night sky. Was it just a trick of the eye? No, up there in the distance a lonesome white figure hung in mid-air, the moonlight basking her in a pale translucent halo.

Lucy drew a deep breath, ready to call out when she froze. Power Girl did have excellent hearing, but even so, she was not keen on waking up the whole camp. She patted herself up and down, hoping she had something on her person that could catch Power Girl’s attention. Nothing, not even a box of matches. She kicked the rails, making her rifle slide off and clatter against the floor. Lucy looked at the rifle then back at Power Girl. Shooting her was out of the question, though it would most definitely get her attention. It’d also alert everyone in the camp. Lucy picked up her rifle and  smacked the stock against the rail. Three short hits, followed by three longer and then three short hits again. Looking up, Lucy muttered, “Come on, just for once listen!”

She tried again, harder this time.  Pivoting on the spot, Lucy glanced about while straining her eyes. Did she actually hear something or was she just hearing things that weren’t there? The sharp and dark shadows that cut over the camp played tricks on her eyes. Something shifted inside. Or did it? Her grip on her rifle tightened, slowly she took her eyes off the camp and back to the task at hand.

“What are you doing?”

The question came out of nowhere. Lucy jolted around as if electrocuted, a scream choked in the depths of her throat as she stomped her foot, “Freakin’!! Don’t you ever! Ever sneak up on me like that!” she hissed at Power Girl.

“Alright, alright, I get it. Look, I’m sorry. No need to get all bent out of shape.”

Catching her breath and calming her galloping heart, Lucy said, “Listen, I need to get out of here. Can you give me a lift?”

Power Girl’s vibrant blue eyes ran over the camp, “This is your assignment?”

“Yeah and I don’t care for staying here any longer. Busting these folks is long overdue.”

“Okay, come here. Let’s get you out of here,” she offered her arms to Lucy.

It was a strange, almost dreamlike experience, to be carried in the strong, sturdy arms of Power Girl as they glided through the air. Carried like a delicate princess, another first for Lucy. She wrapped an arm around Power Girl’s neck while she watched as the treetops drifted by below them. Their flight was short and silent, save the fluttering of her cape. Not many minutes after their departure, Power Girl descended down in a creek just by the lumbermill before she floated in underneath the road and Lucy found solid ground once more, “That was- thanks, you really saved me back there.”

“Don’t mention it. It’s what friends are for,” Power Girl shrugged. “Look, are you going to be okay from here or do you want me to take you all the way back home?”

“No offense, but it’s not exactly the warmest way to travel,” Lucy said rubbing her arms for warmth.

She cocked her head to the side, “I suppose… never really thought of it.”

“What were you doing out here anyway? Out on patrol?”

“Not really. I just needed some peace and quiet,”  the corner of her mouth quirked up. “Lot of stuff happened and- you weren’t involved with the Humane Labs attack, were you?”

Lucy rubbed the back of her neck, “Yeah. I was there. Tried to make sure it wouldn’t succeed, but that didn’t pan out. Guess we missed each other.”

“Mm.”

“Listen, we’re going to shut those guys down, and to do that I need you. Are you up for it?”

“Don’t you worry about me; I’ll watch your back.”

* * *

A murmur ran through the packed briefing room at the police station at the sight of Power Girl. She still wore the injuries from the Humane Labs incident on her sleeve. Sure, she was freshened up, but  beyond a good night’s rest and a long shower, little had been done to hide the truth. It remained ugly and raw on her face. Lights dimmed down and the cooling fan on the projector hummed to life. With it, the collection of police officers, as well as agents from a myriad of other agencies, simmered down. Lucy Kuo stepped up to the podium, “Good day gentlemen, I'll get straight to the point.”

Power Girl listened to Lucy’s briefing, arms crossed over her chest while wearing a blank, poker-faced expression. Religious fanatics, a glorious battle to burn Babylon to the ground and usher forth a golden age from its smoldering ashes. Brainwashing and human experimentation. Details were sketchy as what intel Lucy had extracted were fragmented and still puzzled together. However, the Humane Labs incident had forced their hand. There was no way the local or even federal government would sit on their hands with not one but several real-life Frankenstein monsters doing the bidding of a deranged scientist gone cult leader.

The attendees shifted in their seats and glanced around when Lucy mentioned that the cult's objective was to create a new breed of humans using Power Girl as a basic template. Apparently, the ones that had attacked the Humane Labs were crude prototypes. Unstable and were the very embodiment of burn twice as bright for half as long. With the stolen equipment, the cult's leader hoped to further refine the process. The exact extent of Power Girl’s powers was largely unknown, even among law enforcement. Rumors from her exploits swirled around, but it didn’t take long before a feather became tens of chickens.

A top-down photo of the compound showed on the whiteboard. Together with the captain on the SWAT team, Lucy went over the location and how they’d best approach it. According to Lucy, the cult had amassed an extensive collection of firearms and bullets in the thousands. A sigh of relief could be heard when she explained that as the cult’s head of security, she’d sabotaged many guns by removing the firing pin. With guns failing and the one dedicated to leading their defenses gone the cult's resolve to fight should quickly crumble, or so Lucy hoped. She drew a breath, “Which leaves us with the elephant in the room. These... meta-humans. Power Girl, you have hands-on experience with them. Anything you’d like to add?”

Everyone turned in their seats, all eyes landed on Power Girl at the back of the room. She cleared her throat and squared her shoulders, “They’re tough. Speed, strength, durability... all of those are several notches over even a well-trained human. I'll make them my priority, but depending on how many there are in there, I might need some help.”

Lucy nodded, “I’ve only skimmed through the reports from the Humane Labs, but I advise everyone to do the same. One is injured from the Humane Labs raid, one of its arms practically dead weight. They lost two in the raid. That leaves two healthy and one injured in the compound. Can you handle them, Power Girl?”

“The way I see it, their lack of higher thinking gives us a slight edge. These meta-humans are more beasts than man. Don't expect tactics or strategy from these guys. Just a primal rage. They might not be able to separate friend from foe, but I'm not sure if that will help us or not.”

“I hear that,” Lucy collected her papers. “Listen up, Kala Kapur, the cult leader, is our priority target. If at all possible, we want her alive. There's a chance she might have made a second-generation meta-human by the time we get there. Watch each other's backs out there. Dismissed!”


	27. Justice

Lucy bounced and swayed in her seat as the car made its way up the uneven dirt path leading up to the camp. She tugged at her Kevlar west to give her neck and throat some space. Glancing outside she saw Power Girl flying side by side of their caravan. The good news was that the weather seemed to be on their side, a rather sunny day. It was about the only thing that gave Lucy some ease of mind. Her seatbelt stopped her from swinging too far ahead as the car came to a halt. Lucy drew a breath, her mouth dry, before swinging the door open. Again, her seatbelt stopped her and it took some fumbling to find the release button.

“Agent Kuo,” Power Girl made a gentle landing next to her. “You doing okay?”

She swallowed and nodded, “Check in with the commander. We’ll strike as soon as he gives the go. Remember, stick to the plan; get the gates open. We’ll back you up as best we can.”

A short nod and Power Girl were gone, just the fluttering sound of her cape trailing behind. Lucy clenched and relaxed her trembling hands; her breath grew short and rapid. Helping herself with some water, she listened to the mutterings of the assault team. Last-minute inspections of gear and weapons intertwined with double-checking pieces of the plan, who were supposed to go where and when. Her hand went to her sidearm, like a mind of their own both hands went through the motions of checking the weapon. Only after she slapped the clip back into place did Lucy notice that the gun rested heavily in her hand. Power Girl returned, hovering in midair, “Looks like tear gas goes first. That’s my cue to take out the guard in the gate tower before I open the gate.”

Lucy holstered her gun, “Sounds fair. You going to be okay?”

She cracked a grin, “Yeah, just watch me teach these punks a lesson.”

A few minutes later, Lucy strapped herself in onboard the Light Armored Personnel Vehicle. They didn’t have to wait long before the vehicle surged forward, engine roaring and bullets bouncing off its armored exterior. A small second after it came to a sudden halt, Lucy and everyone else jumped out of the vehicle and into a hailstorm of bullets. Commands of surrender rang left and right, children screaming and women scrambled for cover while the men came around, guns ready. Lucy shifted from cover to cover, eyes scanning the chaos for any sign of Dr. Kapur. She set her sights on the lab entrance and was about to dash across when from the corner of her eye she caught sight of someone. Pivoting, her sidearm ready Lucy stared down the barrel of a rifle. One fractured second later she’d squeezed the trigger twice and whomever her assailant slumped over on his back with a thud.

“Why…?” he coughed, deep red blood seeped through his washed-out shirt, “why didn’t it fire?”

She kneeled by his side and checked his pulse, “Hold tight, we’ll get you out of here. Hey, hey… listen to me, okay? You’re going to be alright.”

A roar, primal with a tender undertone of a tortured human soul brought the blood in Lucy’s veins down to an ice water chill. Hesitantly she stole a peek over her cover. Power Girl’s solid frame charged straight into her massive opponent without any trace of hesitation or doubt. They wrestled and grabbled with one another like two ferocious predators. Dr. Kapur’s creation was slow, yet undeniably strong whereas Power Girl was far more agile, almost catlike in her movement. However, when she got a solid grip, she brought the hulking beast down hard enough to make the ground shake.

Lucy's grip on her sidearm tightened. Her eyes shifted from the train wreck of a fight that demanded her absolute attention to the gaping hole in the lab wall and back again. She drew a sharp breath and kicked off into a dash. Bullets whizzed over and just past her head, broken planks threw off her footing and she almost twisted her ankle in the process. As the brutal hole in the wall filled her field of view, Lucy slowed down into a light jog, gun raised and ready. The sound of battle bled into the lab which looked like it had exploded. Everything was a complete mess, even the precious equipment that Dr. Kapur had stolen had gotten reduced to a twisted thing, damaged beyond repair. Lucy swept the room and found no trace of Dr. Kapur. Somehow, over all the chaos, shooting, and fighting she caught the sound of a door banging against the wall. She swallowed and pressed on deeper into the battered building.

* * *

The first tear gas shot rang through the air. Power Girl launched herself towards the tower by the front gate, grabbing the guard and slamming him into the ground below. Not wasting a second once, inside the compound, Power Girl pulled off the large wooden bar that kept the main gate locked. Behind her panicked commands ran throughout the camp, feet scrambling in the dirt and weapons getting loaded. She dragged one of the gates open, her feet slipping and struggling to find a solid hold. A pang of pain flashed on her temple, her head jerked to the side and her grip on the gate faltered.

Power Girl left the gate ajar as she pushed deeper into the camp, hands ready. She snatched a rifle, her fingers digging into the metal like talons. Police commands tried to cut over the chaos, orders of surrender were repeated over and over again until they drowned in a hail of gunfire. One of the walls to Kala’s lab exploded, raining wooden splinters and debris down on the central yard. A roar, primal with a tender undertone of a tortured human soul brought everyone to a brief pause. Cult members' lips curled into uneasy smiles; a sad peace shined in their eyes as they took in the sight of the future of humankind. This is it. This is how the world ends.

A second of hesitation ticked by before Power Girl rushed forward. The two titans collided. Around them, the fighting resumed in earnest. She managed to pin the monstrosity down, squeezing her thigs around its pelvis. In return, it bundled its massive fists together. They were brought down square between her shoulders. It hurt, just about every nerve on her spine felt like red hot wires searing through her flesh. The wind got knocked out of her. Caught in-between heaving breaths and coughs, Power Girl’s focus slipped. A second set of hands latched onto her cape. She heard the fabric tear as she got yanked off.

Through a chaotic torrent of punches and kicks, Power Girl managed to keep her two assailants at bay. But that was all that she could do. Her greatest asset, superior strength, wasn’t enough. Whatever she could dish out, they could not only take but throw back. Lungs stung and ached, air was like barbwire sliding in and out of her throat. She spotted a third hulking creature in the background, clutching its shoulder. Instead of joining the fray, it shifted around on the spot and looked for a way out. A frag grenade went off and the wounded monstrosity took off like a mountain gorilla, scaling the perimeter walls with great speed despite its injured shoulder.

Power Girl was about to give chase when a new volley of gunfire caught her attention. SWAT had circled around the compound and was unleashing their collective firepower on the hulking meta-humans. Needless to say, they weren’t happy about it. The massive duo howled in pain. Their stampede was swift and destructive. Power Girl locked her arm around one of their throats as fast and firm as she could. The sound of bones breaking and grown men pleading for mercy stung in her ears. Blood and gunpowder filled the air as she slammed the colossal man into the ground. A series of punches connected to its face. Their eyes met. Power Girl’s fist, bloodied and bruised, hesitated. Unlike the first few she’d fought at Humane Labs, this one seemed to be more man than beast.

Something large and fast tackled her from behind. Pressed her face down into the dirt, scraping her along the ground. Wood splintered, pipes broke and water gurgled. Power Girl’s limbs were heavy, like sacks of concrete. Her vision blurred into a watery haze. A towering silhouette stomped towards her. She gritted her teeth, her eyes swallowed up in a deadly orange light, “Don’t you fucking dare make me do it!”

It hesitated. Pulled back, collected its friend, and left Power Girl’s sight. Slumping down in the middle of the debris as if a great burden had been eased off her, her orange glowing eyes faded back to their usual vibrant blue. She was breathing hard and coarse. Just a second, just a couple of seconds to catch her breath. Then she’d get back to it. Water from a punctured pipe somewhere in the room rained down on her, soothing against her warm skin. Her hand trembled, numb fingers clumsily wiped the water off her face. Power Girl threw a sideways glance, “Lucy?”

* * *

“Doctor!” Lucy raised her sidearm, “Don’t move.”

Dr. Kapur stopped and pivoted halfway on the spot, limping as she did. Crutch in one hand, a laptop in the other clutched close to her chest, “I shouldn’t be surprised. But to be honest, I am.”

Just what the doctor’s plan was, Lucy couldn’t tell. There was nowhere to go from here unless she wanted to try and brave the cliff that was behind her. Given the doctor's condition, Lucy figured her successfully making the trip was unlikely. Nevertheless, she remained firm and alert, “Give it up.”

“Wait, just wait. Hear me out,” she secured a better footing, the small backpack she wore jiggled. “I just wanted to help people. If you’ve never believed anything I’ve said before, at least believe that.”

Lucy stepped forward; her gun aimed at Dr. Kapur, “Drop the laptop. Drop the crutch. Lay down on the ground, face down. Now.”

“I can- my research will save countless lives! Sickness, disease, perhaps even old age will be a thing of the past. You can’t-”

She gritted her teeth, her fingers spread out and coiled around the grip of her sidearm, “Do as I say or I swear I’ll gun you down where you stand!”

Dr. Kapur scoffed and shook her head. Despite a moment of hesitation, she bent down and put the laptop away, “Honestly… you ignorant twat! I can make you a god, just like her. No, better.”

“You have a right to remain silent, I suggest you use it to full effect doctor.”

“This is degrading,” she glanced about on the ground. Stomping with her crutch she said, “I can’t- I can’t lie down. It’s just not possible, not with the way I am.”

Lucy paused and tried to look over her shoulder while still keeping an eye on the doctor. No one was nearby to help her and it was unlikely that they’d hear her over all the racket. A beat passed and she said, “Fine. Get down on your knees and put your hands at the top of your head. Can you do that?”

Dr. Kapur grumbled but did as she was told. She struggled to keep her balance once she dropped her crutch and judging by the looks on her face, she was in great discomfort. Lucy stepped up with long strides, holstering her sidearm and reaching for her handcuffs. They got tangled up in something and as Lucy looked down to get them free, she saw some movement in the corner of her eye. Time slowed down; a fractured second dragged out as Lucy reached for her sidearm. Dr. Kapur’s face was a hideous snarl, one last defiant jab at those that tried to deny her destiny. She’d managed to grab something out of her backpack, shiny and transparent. Whatever it was, it came hurling out of Dr. Kapur’s hand straight for Lucy.

A cracking sound stabbed Lucy’s ear, intense heat ran its wide tongue over her cheek as a pair of vibrant orange beams cut through the air. Glass shattered and something of the oily blood of a liquid wobbled and reached out through the air for a small second before it caught fire. Dr. Kapur caught the worst of it, shrieking as the burning liquid landed on her skin. Even though she shielded herself as best she could with her hand, even her face was not spared. An arm folded around Lucy’s shoulders and with next to no effort, yanked her off her feet. She caught a fleeting glimpse of the sky before a red cape blocked her view and a voice said, “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

Lucy blinked, “Kara? Holy shit, you look like crap.”

She smiled a bloodied smile, “Thanks, I love you too…”

“Wait, the doctor!” Lucy kicked and scrambled back to her feet, sidearm ready. The doctor was gone, as was her laptop. All that remained was her trusty crutch. “Kara, circle up and find her. You’ve got-”

Power Girl coughed, wiping a mouthful of blood away with the back of her hand, “I hate to disappoint, but I’m spent. That heat vision took the last of my juice. Owh, owh… yeah, that hurts. Son of a…!”

Lucy ran up to the cliff edge and looked down at the dirt road below. A trail of dry dust had gotten kicked up, probably from a car driving by, but Lucy couldn’t see any, “Shit! Alright, hopefully, I’ll find the laptop.”

* * *

Under nights thick, dark cloak Power Girl lay onboard the dingey. She had to conserve her strength. Doctor’s orders. Before the raid she’d given Dr. Cross the heads up and have him set up a temporary shop in a nearby lumber yard. The crew from the yacht had helped, acting as makeshift nurses. They’d done the best they could with what time and resources they had at hand. One of her eyes had swollen shut, her lips were cracked in three separate places and her fingers were wrapped in bandages. Bruises, big and small, dark and pale were scattered all over her body. One of her shoulders still didn’t quite roll as smooth as it should in its socket. But being pressed for time, Power Girl would have to leave it for another day. Her teeth clattered as she bundled herself up tighter, folding the thick blanket around her even more, “Are we there yet?”

“Just a little while longer ma’am,” Captain Sato said over the splashing waves.

A hiss of a breath got drawn when Power Girl left the dingy, her eyes glossy. Troubled hands hovered around her with an uneasy anxiousness. She gave them a forced smile, a few wet red pearls of blood rested on her lip. Her feet shuffled and dragged themselves across the carpet, shoulders hunched over and head held low. Every once in awhile, she’d stagger half a step to the side, only to stop and sway on the spot. Wilted Power Girl kept staring at the carpet as it blurred in and out of focus. Her muscles shifted between shrieking objections to their inhuman burden to complete silence. Whatever was left of her powers acted like a failing fluorescent lamp. Her brain slushed around like a half-frozen ocean; crude icebergs scraped against the inside of her skull.

She saw a hand, small and soft, almost childlike. It offered itself to her, “Ms. Starr, you don’t have to stand alone.”

The crude blanket rustled and Power Girl’s bandaged fingers reached out, taking Rose’s hand. Together the two women made their way to the master bedroom. It was a big, black nothingness inside. Only the distant light from the Los Santos city bled in through a few cracks in the curtains. Rose patted along the door frame, fumbling for the light switch while trying her best to support Power Girl’s massive frame. Power Girl squinted, her keen sight adjusting to the dark room quickly. The room was a mess, pillows and quilt had been tossed about. On top of the bed lay a silhouette. Did Sylvester have a bad dream perhaps? She shrugged and limped into the room, collecting a pillow as she went.

Part of her wanted to get out of the suit, another screaming for the soft embrace of the bed. It’d probably hurt like a searing hot shower just to undo the zipper, nevermind pulling this snakeskin of a suit off her body. Doubtful she could pull that off without groaning, moaning, and cursing. And considering Sylvester’s quiet, peaceful sleep, she’d rather not disturb him. No doubt that he’d be upset if he saw her now, raw like a beaten hamburger. No, let him sleep. She eased herself into the bed, her knees crying out protests as old door hinges do in cheap horror movies. The effort left her panting.

Power Girl drew in a sharp breath in sudden realization. She sat perfectly still, alert, and tense at the edge of the bed. And listened. Straining her ears for agonizing seconds she heard something. One breath. Just one. But there were three people in the room.

“Sly!”

An inferno of pain flared up as she threw herself around, fingers struggling against the constraints of her bandages. Warm blood, fresh from just beneath her skin coated the top of her fingers, the back of her palm. Her palm felt cold, naked skin. Sylvester rolled over, a limp and lifeless shadow. Lights came on, stabbing her eyes like a swarm of bees. Tears flooded, ten thousand words in two different languages jammed stuck on the surface of her tongue. A guttural cry, hoarse and raw rode out on a spray of saliva, tears, and blood. Panicked hands wrapped in bloodied bandages patted and slapped Sylvester’s ghostly white face, smearing it with blood. Arms strong enough to bend steel and punch through concrete folded around him, pulling his limp and cold remains close. Questions, names, stomping footsteps, and voices sounded like a confused and out of tune choir. Sylvester was cold, cold enough to pierce her bones, yet she held him close. Rocking. Back. And forth.

Hours later there was a quiet knock on the bathroom door. Power Girl looked up from behind her knees. She’d taken a seat in the shower; the water had gone from warm to cold at some point. Just when she couldn’t tell. Why it was on in the first place was a whole other issue. Captain Sato stood in the doorway, rigid and formal as always. Prim and proper in her flawless white uniform. Behind her, like a scared child stood Rose. She stole troubled looks at Power Girl and was quick to advert her eyes as soon as Power Girl took notice.

“They’ve left for now ma’am, but they want you to come by the station to take your statement at your earliest convenience.”

Rose tip-toed around and helped herself with a towel. She turned off the shower and started drying Power Girl’s soaked hair, “It- uh, it wasn’t your fault. It’s a bit early to tell, but they, they suspect heart failure due to alcohol withdrawal. That’s- uh, that’s how he died. I’m sorry.”

“What if…” Power Girl muttered while chewing on a fingernail, “What if I didn’t- perhaps he could have handled it without…”

“Ma’am?”

“Dr. Cross… you see, he’s pretty good so- maybe, if I’d put some more faith in his skills… then-”

“Ms. Starr, please!” Rose hugged her close, “Please stop. Please?”

Power Girl didn’t register the hug. She just sat there, huddled up like a boulder of emotions, staring blankly ahead into some unseen future of what if. The soaked bandage undid itself and slithered down her wet skin as she kept tapping her temple. Like a hammer on an anvil, trying to forge some sort of sense and understanding out of the world around her. Into the coal, back at the anvil, hammer, hammer. Into the coal, back at the anvil, hammer, hammer. Over and over again. It looked like something going into the coal. Something she’d be happy to have, blessed even. But there was something about the hammer, the anvil, the strikes, or perhaps all of the above. Her lower lip trembled. Try as she might, for all her skill, all her knowledge, and all her strength, she just couldn’t get it right. Nevertheless, she persisted.

* * *

“All rise,” the court official said.

Power Girl winced as she rose to her full height. On the surface, she looked clean as a whistle. Most of the injuries she’d suffered during the cult assault had healed, at least on a surface level. There were some bruises here and there, most hidden underneath her suit or a subtle coat of make-up. She'd been out of the loop with how the child pornography case had developed and only gotten snippets from Max. The max sentence for this kind of crime was in the fourteen to sixteen years, though it was unusual to actually get the maximum sentence.

“Look, as long as these guys get thrown away for a good chunk of years, I consider that a win,” Power Girl whispered to Max.

Lucy gave her a little nudge, “Haven’t you heard? They struck a deal.”

“Deal? What deal?”

Max raised his hands, “Don’t look at me, I don’t know anything.”

“They pleaded for two acts of lewd to a child and two counts of sexual abuse.”

Power Girl frowned, “Okay? What does that mean?”

Lucy shrugged, "Since they’ve pleaded for two counts, which is much more severe, their sentence has most likely been slimmed down in exchange.”

Power Girl glanced over to the defendant’s desk. Neither the clients nor the lawyers looked particularly worried. Over at the defendant's desk, the mood had this resigned defeat raining down on them as they took a seat. The judge went over the protocol and formalities up to the point where the sentenced would be handed out. All of the defendants had to go to sexual abuse counseling, stay away from kids, and had to register as a sex offender for the rest of their lives. On top of that, they got five years of formal probation and three hundred and sixty-five days in the county jail. The defendant smirked and nodded, content with the outcome. Power Girl’s keen ears caught one of the lawyer's whispers, “We’ll continue to work the case. Six months tops and you’re free to go.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Power Girl stood up at the back of the courtroom.

Both Lucy and Max followed suit. More out of a need to keep Power Girl quiet than to join in on her objections. Lucy grabbed her arm and pulled on it while hissing between her teeth, “Kara, not now. Sit down, do you hear me?”

“Order!” the judge demanded.

“Do you have any idea of what these sick- things have done?! Have you seen the evidence? Have you really looked at it?!”

“Kara! Be quiet this instant,” Lucy insisted while glancing around as the court officers approached.

“You call this justice?! Anyone in here?” Power Girl threw the question out, but no one answered. Some stared at her, eyes wide with terror. Others shrunk down in their seats, riding the raging storm as best they could.

“Alright lady, that’s enough,” one of the court officers said, grabbing her arm.

Power Girl yanked free and glared at the officer with disgust, “Touch me again and you’ll be shitting teeth for a month.”

“Order!” the command echoed over the frustrated bangs of the gavel.

“Listen, Kara, listen to me. Listen!” Power Girl stared Lucy down, rage flaring in her eyes. “You can’t win this one. Let it go.”

“Let it go?! You expect me to just- you going to look those kids dead in the eye and tell them to just... let it go?! This isn’t justice Lucy. You know it. I know it. Everyone in here knows it!”

“It’s the law Kara!”

A silent beat passed between them. Power Girl struggled to find the words. She just stood there, simmering and yanking at the chains that shackled her wrath. Without another word she left, shoving the double door off its hinges. The small sea of reporters that waited outside the courtroom washed over her with wave after wave of questions. It didn’t take many seconds however for them to read the mood. They all lowered their cameras, put away their microphones, and parted aside to make a path. No scoop in the world was worth being on the receiving end of Power Girl’s barely contained rage. Behind her, she heard Lucy call out for her, but whatever she was saying fell on deaf ears.

She found a fire escape and climbed the stairs three at a time. The final door that stood at the top of the stairs got the blunt of her anger. A palm print got imprinted on the metal door while the hinges did their best to keep it from flying away. Warm sunlight washed over her face; a soothing breeze ran its long invisible fingers through her hair. Neither did much to slow her down or cool her emotions. Instead, she kicked off into the sky, cracking the concrete beneath her boots. Just before the air started to roar over her ears, Power Girl caught the sound of Lucy calling her name.

Orienting herself midair, Power Girl shot off like a bullet. A short moment later her landing just outside the front doors of StarrWARE rattled like a mortar shell. She paraded inside; her stride determined. The receptionist approached her with confused caution, his words distant and indistinguishable in her ears. Nothing more than a dripping sink three rooms down. She acknowledged his existence only when he stood in front of the stairs, arms stretch out wide to bar her from proceeding. Like viper fangs, her fingers grabbed him by the collar and yanked him out of her way. The force sent him skidding across the floor, whereas Power Girl stood rigid and firm.

The clacking of mechanical keyboards slowed down and faded out; conversations dropped dead mid-sentence. Power Girl panned from one side of the office landscape to the next. Her sights set on the server room door; she resumed her stride. A few got up and asked her something or another. She shoved them firmly back in their seat. Like scared kittens the room scrambled about, retreating away. From the corner of her eye Power Girl saw Ophelia coming out of some meeting or another. The cat only caught her tongue momentarily because she was soon making demands. Her first question got cut short by Power Girl forcing the door to the server room open.

A wall of cold air washed over her. Inside was the same as always; server racks and switches blinking like little Christmas trees while humming like a hyperactive beehive. Power Girl grabbed one of the switches and pulled it from the rack. Metal creaked and plastic snapped, wires tried to hold on but let go quickly once the screws started ricocheting off the walls. With all of her strength, all of her pent-up rage she smashed it to the floor. Again, and again until it was nothing but a twisted and deformed chunk of metal. A hunger came over her, Power Girl’s hands greedily helped themselves with another switch. Then a hard drive. They all suffered the same cruel fate at her powerful hands. Time lost its meaning as everything she touched got caught in a violent torrent.

“ENOUGH!”

The word cut through Power Girl’s blind rage like crackling thunder. She blinked away her tears and looked up, straight into the barrel of Lucy’s gun, “That’s enough Kara.”

She sat there on the floor, surrounded by the chaos and destruction she’d caused. Her shoulders slumped and her head hung low. The majesty of her statuesque form shrunk back, defeated and shamed, “They hurt those kids...”

“I know,” Lucy holstered her gun and kneeled down beside her.

“They hurt those kids so bad and I-” Power Girl hid her eyes behind a trembling hand, tears trekked down her cheeks.

“I know...”

“All this power, these abilities and I couldn’t-” her voice cracked and sobs escaped her. “I didn’t- I didn’t know Lucy. I swear, I didn’t...”

Lucy’s arm folded over her shoulders, her voice soft and understanding, “...I know.”


	28. Fallout

Karen’s eyes were closed. Behind a wall of darkness, she heard Simon, Ophelia, and Nico talk among themselves. Simon’s voice squealed every so often, tense nerves made his breathing rapid and trembling. Like a dog chasing its own tail, he kept cycling through the same few what about questions. Ophelia remained firm in her frustration. Every time Simon repeated himself it chipped away at her patience, adding another edge to her voice. Nico kept his cool by saying as little as possible. Speaking only when spoken to his answers were short and precise, rarely exceeding an apparently strict three-word limit. His façade didn’t fool Karen though. With just a little concentration on her part, she heard the way Nico’s leg bounced up and down like an overeager machinegun. A fresh pair of sneakers shaved off most of the sound, so it was unlikely that the others picked up on it. As for Karen, she remained statuesque at the end of the long meeting room table. Fingers intertwined, the back of her hands forming a platform that she rested her nose upon.

The glass doors swung open, feet clattered across the floor and chairs scraped across it. Greetings were exchanged. Lucy remained professional and calm, like a soothing chill. Unphased by Simon’s stuttering mess of an apology and greeting spliced together. Max, wearing too much aftershave in an attempt to mask the smell of his cigars, had more in common with Simon. Thankfully Max managed to keep his anxiety in check and not infect Simon. Still, the cracks in his voice were there. Out of his element, ushered into the big leagues too soon for comfort. Like an intern forced to make a presentation for the board of directors. Karen opened her eyes, the curtain raised for this crucial performance, “Special agent Kuo, Mr. Lord. Please, have a seat.”

“This won’t take long Ms. Starr,” Lucy said. “We prefer to stand.”

Max looked at Karen, his eyes squinting as he kept examining her face. When their eyes met, he adverted his. Instead, his gaze turned inwards, looking for something. Karen remained perfectly still, “Suit yourselves.”

“I demand answers agent Kuo,” Ophelia hopped into the topic at hand with both feet. “This attack- what do you have to say for yourselves?”

Despite the edge to Ophelia’s voice, Lucy kept her cool, “We’re terribly sorry of course. But there was really no way for us to know that Power Girl would respond the way she did.”

Ophelia scoffed with open disgust, “That bitch has been off the rails since she first came into service. If you people can’t keep her on a leash, just what are we paying taxes for?”

“Now, now…” Max said, “the important thing to keep in mind is that no one got killed or even hurt in the… incident.”

“Incident?!” Ophelia slammed her hands on the table and shot up from her seat, tipping over her chair in the process. “Mr. Lord. This was a terrorist attack, plain and simple. And we will not just press charges; we will sue. You hear me?! We’ll-”

“No we won’t,” Karen said, her words shot through the room like a shockwave that left a deafening silence in its wake. “Ophelia, take a seat.”

“Ms. Starr! You can’t be-”

Without moving an inch, Karen sent her a glare that could sink battleships, “Sit. Down.”

Simon cleared his throat, “I uh, agree with Ms. Starr. If- uh, if we press charges Power Girl might… She might attack. Again. And this time she won’t come for our servers.”

“Simon, shut up.”

He raised a finger at Ophelia, “No, you be quiet. And listen. We should all be facing terrible charges. Everyone in StarrWARE. Storing child pornography, even if the party is unaware of it, is no joke. So why- why agent, uh… K- Kuo here isn’t dragging the lot of us out of here is… beyond me.”

Lucy opened the file she carried with her and handed Ophelia a piece of paper, “Listen, this was Power Girl’s case and she managed to make a deal with the district attorney. Because of that StarrWARE and its staff will not be charged.”

She looked over the page time and time again, puzzled, “What? I don’t understand…”

“Look Ophelia, we’re already been given a lot of special treatment.”

“Ms. Starr, do I have to remind you that we’ve lost several millions worth of server equipment? That we have an obligation to our client?” she shook the page with frustration. “This! This changes nothing. Did- did you know of this Ms. Starr?”

“Yes. I met with the district attorney and Power Girl. Together we made the deal. Try to look at it this way; our precious client has his reputation flushed down the toilet. Oh, he’ll bounce back. Slither his way back to the top. But do we want to do business with a known pedophile?” Karen looked from Ophelia to Simon to Nico. “I don’t want to take that kind of money.”

In the corner of her eye she noticed that recognition dawned on Max’s face, followed by the color of his face making a rapid departure. Lucy gave him a nudge with her elbow, preventing him from raising an accusing finger at Karen. Rigid and unnatural like a mannequin Max tried his best to keep a cool exterior, staring intently at the meeting room table in front of him. Even when Ophelia smacked her palms against the table for a second time, Max barely flinched, “Ms. Starr this- this is outrageous! We must sue!”

“Sue?” Karen leaned back in her chair, subtly rocking back and forth with a cocky arrogance. “Power Girl is a public servant Ophelia. There’s no way she can cover the expenses. I’m not even sure she gets a paycheck.”

“Well I’m sorry to inform you that alien attacks are not covered by our insurance Ms. Starr,” Ophelia was practically shrieking at this point. “And you want us to just take this loss on the chin?! While cutting ties to our best paying client ever? Are you out of your goddamn mind?!”

Karen drew a deep breath and let out a heavy sigh, “We’ll work something out. And look, if you’re not up for the challenge that’s fine. The doors over there, just be kind to close it when you’re done using it.”

“The balls of this woman,” Nico chuckled into his hand.

Ophelia was fuming. Karen could tell by the look on her face that she was crunching numbers, trying to make heads and tails of the situation. The biggest puzzle was probably where Karen got her confidence. Just what rabbit was she going to pull out of the top hat this time? A rabbit so shiny and white that it’d get them out of such a mess. Ophelia had a pride that rivaled that of Karen, so walking out with such an audience went against her very being. More than anything it was Karen’s unorthodox approach to things that were both her biggest strength and at the same time, her biggest weakness. But as the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat. Ophelia hung her head, “No, that’s fine.”

* * *

Consciousness dripped back to Kala drop by drop. Everything hurt, just lying still breathing invited wave after wave of throbbing pain. For whatever reason, she could only open her right eye. It swam with tears from the aching pain that slithered up and down her nerves, coiling itself around every bone and muscle in her battered body. The room she found herself in was dimmed down to a moonless night. Her hospital styled bed were flanked by state-of-the-art life support equipment. Tubes and vires sprawled out from various instruments, nesting all around her like a den of snakes. Time lost its meaning as she ebbed in and out of consciousness, the room appeared to roll from side to side like a boat in rough seas while the bed floated on some unseen cloud.

“Is she awake?” a woman demanded.

“Barely,” another voice said. “We’ve managed to stabilize her, but I advise you to keep it quick.”

Prying her eye open, Kala looked to the side of her bed. There stood an African-American woman, stout and serious. The white pearl necklace she wore around her neck particularly caught Kala’s eye. She wanted to speak, but her mouth was a dried-up mess that no amount of swallowing could solve. Her visitor noticed her distress and offered her a glass of water, guiding the straw to her sore and cracked lips, “I’ll get straight to the point. I’m impressed by your research and the results you’ve managed to produce on your own, working with scraps.”

Plain, lukewarm water revitalized Kala in ways that only the sweetest nectar could do. Yet her visitor made it clear that she was not here to indulge Kala. She put the glass away and continued over Kala’s whimpering protest, “I’m here to make you a deal.”

“Wh- what deal?” Kala pressed out tears. Talking hurt, even twisting her face in pain jabbed and pierced her skin like a thousand glowing red-hot needles.

“Work for me and I’ll not only let you live but finish your research,” the woman said.

Kala scoffed, her one good eye-rolling in its socket to take in the sorry state that was her body. Her condition was bad enough, living on borrowed time as she was. It was clear as day that she was standing in Death’s doorway. Her left hand and forearm wrapped in bandages, throbbing and sore from a nasty looking burn injury. Second or third-degree, it was hard to tell through the tears. A bitter laugh escaped her, its rocky departure from her lungs brought on a new world of pain that threatened to tear up her ribcage, “Do you honestly take me for a fool? I’m practically dead. Do me a favor and pull the plug.”

The woman just stood there completely poker-faced for a moment. With a sniff, her hand went to a switch on one of the life support devices. Their eyes met, “I’ve detailed files. On the alien. On how its body works. On their history with Earth.”

Kala’s mouth gaped, like a gutted fish, “I- I was right…? Please-”

“Pity,” the woman’s finger tightened on the switch.

“Wait!” pain flared up, punching through Kala’s flesh and shattered through her bones. An army of agony laid siege on her mind, threatening to overwhelm her and thrust her into the dark unconscious. Gritting her teeth, Kala dug down into the deepest parts of her being where she found a small, flickering light she could cling to it. She latched on to it and refused to let go until the pain faded down to a more manageable level, “Wait… wait… I’ll do it. I’ll work for you.”

The woman let go of the switch, “Excellent. Welcome to Project Cadmus Dr. Kapur. You’re in good hands now. We take care of our own.”

* * *

A pair of vibrant blue eyes peeked over the sunglasses, taking in the sight of a fresh grave. Just a rectangular patch of dirt and a simple wooden cross painted white marked it. The priest, family, and friends had already taken their leave. Only Karen remained, her plain black dress shimmered in the brilliant sun. Meeting Sylvester’s family for the first time while attending his funeral was not how she’d pictured it’d play out. Assuming they’d even get that far. They’d been kind enough, given the circumstances. Upset and shattered beyond words, no one really understanding why their brother and son was taken away from them. Karen had been as honest as she could with them without disclosing who she really was to them.

“Oh Sly…” she squatted down, digging through her purse, and fished out a pillar candle. Using her heat vision, she lit it and put it at the base of the grave. “Why? Why didn’t you come to me or anyone else for that matter? What were you thinking? That you’re a man and you have to sort this out on your own?”

She glanced over her shoulder. The cemetery was practically empty. An elderly man sat quietly on a bench by the pond, wrapped in his own melancholic world. Down by the parking lot, Captain Sato waited steadfastly by the car. A soft breeze rustled through the trees, “Hey Sly, did you know that dying is expensive? Yeah, weird right? Don’t worry about it though, I shouldered most of the cost. Ah, you probably don’t like that. It was either that or your parents taking it out of your little sister’s college fund.”

Karen rose to her full height and smoothed down her skirt, “Look, as devastated as I am of you leaving ahead of me I…” a shudder ran through her breath, “I’m not giving up. I’ll keep on looking. For someone that will love me for who and what I am. I was hoping you’d be the one, but- well, here we are. Thanks for the smiles, the laughs… I’ll treasure them along with the time we had together. Don’t panic, I’ll come by and visit from time to time. Why don’t- why don’t you think of some new jokes to tell me until I come back? And I’ll keep you up to date on the latest anime season. Deal? Deal.”


End file.
